This Game Called Life
by A Polar Bear
Summary: A game with only one chance. A game that has no pausing, no reverts, no checkpoints, no destination. A game where the XP you gain isn't from fighting a dragon, but from fighting your friends and family. In short, this game is a bitch. At least it's got awesome graphics.
1. Starting on the right foot

Figures that the night before the first day of grade 11 I couldn't fall asleep.

So really, can you blame me for being kind of irritable and high strung in the morning? I had a total of 1 hour of rest in the last 2 days, so yeah, I'm gonna be kind of an asshole.

Granted, most of that time was spent celebrating the last few days of summer freedom at house parties, but that's beside the point.

Anyways, lil' sister Tracy decided to 'look good' for her first day of high school, so she's been hogging the bathroom for hours. So I bang on the door and tell her to hurry up. Which I'm pretty sure just prompts her to slow down the pace. So I kick the door and tell her to get the fuck out of the fucking bathroom.

And my mom hears me downstairs.

Damn she has good hearing.

Probably didn't help that I was yelling at the top of my lungs.

Anyways I spend my first school day morning in 2 months getting berated for using inappropriate language in the house, to my poor innocent little sunshine of a sister no less, and get grounded for that night. Great.

Eventually Tracy relents the bathroom, coming out looking like a cheap model straight outta Fourside (I keep that comment to myself, mom's still beside me). Seriously, I don't think she could've found more Barbie like clothing. Chic everything. Trendy as fuck style. Whatever happened to the sweet innocent Tracy of my youth?

Well to be fair, the shallow standard of high school is either dress for popularity, or be trampled on for the next 4 years.

So I approve.

Mom doesn't, of course, which leads to a shouting match that composes mostly of 'why do you hate me?!' and 'Watch your mouth young lady!'. From what I can hear from inside the bathroom, apparently mom thought Trace is dressing to impress boys.

…funny thing about that is… well… let's just say Tracy isn't interested in impressing any boys.

I put on my favourite baseball cap, very fitting for my legendary ball skills, swing my bag over my shoulder, send a quick text to Paula (hottie), book it past the two still arguing blondies, and head downstairs.

I wave goodbye to my dad, who's sitting motionless on the bureau as usual.

That's sort of an inside joke in my family. Since dad's always away at work, the only way we talk to him is over the phone. So we've taken to making our home phone the surrogate man of the family. We'd wave hi and bye to it, and occasionally move it to the dinner table and put a mini plate of steak in front of it.

But it's only a joke. My read dad's not a phone. Duh.

I open the door and squint against the early September sun. Paula (hottie) is waiting in front of my car. Ever since she moved to one block down from my house, life has been fucking terrific. Gives me an excuse to be away from the house every time my _other _neighbour decides to come visit.

I hold her and we're about to land a kiss on each other's lips, but then I fall limp in her arms and nearly pass out on her shoulder.

Oh, right, yeah. One hour of sleep.

Apparently that was all the convincing she needs to take over driving to school for me. And there is no convincing her otherwise when she is dead set on doing something her way.

I feel a heartbreaking pain inside my soul. I am about to let someone else drive my precious baby. The guys are gonna rip on me for this so badly. Fuel's never gonna let me off easy.

We're about to set off when I hear a high pitched scream.

Shit, Tracy. She's going to our high school now too. I tell Paula to stop and we let Tracy in the backseat.

"Sorry 'bout that, sis." I say.

"Shut up, you dim witted jock faggot." She retorts through her lipstick painted lips.

Like I said, whatever happened to the sweet innocent Tracy of my youth?

Paula leans over and smiles at Tracy. Oh yeah, they haven't met in person yet.

"Hey, you must be Ness's little sister. I'm Paula, nice to meet you."

Tracy gets this rather stunned expression on her makeup-trampled face. Her mouth is slightly agape and I can practically see the fucking drool fall out of the corners. She's staring at my girlfriend like my friends would chicks at the club.

…yeah.

Heh, the best part is that Trace thinks she's being inconspicuous. That she's keeping it a well hidden secret. I had my suspicions starting a few months back, but kept them to myself.

Because let's face it, how do you approach this subject with your baby sister?

Well, personally I ain't crossing that bridge until I have no other choice other than swim across with no arms and legs.

Paula turns back to me and whispers, "Hon, your sister-."

"Yeah. Okay. Shh."

Not crossing it, I swear.

Right, the other thing about letting chicks, particularly your girlfriend, drive your car, is that they drive abysmally slow. I had originally planned to book it out of the block before my _other _neighbour could see me, but was offered no such luxury. So I settle for slinking as low as I can in my seat and praying that _he _wouldn't be looking out the window like he normally does.

No such luck.

"...ess, Ness! NESS!"

I put my face in my hands. I can hear the fat prick yelling my name before he even leaves his house.

Paula, being the gorgeous clueless Samaritan she is, stops.

"Drive." I say, not in the mood to deal with _him_ with a sleep lacking brain.

"But what about your little friend?"

Little friend? Two words too generous to be using to describe him.

"NESS! LEMME RIDE TO SCHOOL WITH YA!"

"Baby, just drive please." I plead.

"Ness, don't be such a prude, let your friend ride."

Suddenly, there are loud banging noises coming from my passenger side door as fat fists rap against my poor car. Tracy yelps and scoots over to the other side.

I go from annoyed and lethargic to full on freaked out in a beat.

"NESS! LEMME INNNNN!" His nasally voice is too close for comfort.

"HIT THE GAS!" I yell, and this time Paula needs no more prompting, as she squeals out of the neighbourhood faster than I've ever seen her drive.

Which still isn't very fast, by the way. She even takes care to stop at the stop sign. Like the Onett Police would ever be competent enough to catch her if she didn't.

I sigh as the last of Pokey Minch's pleading yells fade. I lean my head against the window and decide to sleep the rest of the way to Onett High.

That's enough bullshit for one morning.


	2. Ness' declassified school survival guide

Turns out, I forgot that even with Paula's driving speed, it takes approximately 3 minutes to get to school in a car. So I guess I'll be working my first day of Junior year with 3780 seconds total of sleep. Great.

Paula practically carries me to the front steps, and dumps me against the door, before going to find a parking spot. Usually I would've run after her to make sure that she doesn't run my baby into a tree, but with only 3,780,000 milliseconds of rest, I'd probably start hallucinating and direct her off a cliff.

Pushing into the school's lobby, the general chatter of students fills my ears.

Okay, let's get something straight first. Remember all the 'be yourself' motivational speeches and 'popularity doesn't mean anything' PSAs they've crammed down your throats for the past 8 years? In high school, it means jack shit.

If you're lucky, your natural personality is likeable and charismatic enough for you to fit in and group with a bunch of buddies right away. Otherwise, the harsh and pitiful truth is that you'll have to adjust yourself to be able to muscle into an acceptable crowd.

Surviving high school necessitates being in a group. And if you're the kind of dude who listens to classical music and wears kilts, you might have to change things up a bit to find one, because being singled out is the worst thing to happen in a hormone charged gathering of teenagers like Onett High.

At this point of your life, sociability and the number of friends you have is credit to your name. Popularity, as shallow as it sounds, is important.

And you know what…?

"Ness! Dude what's up man?"

"Hey Nessie! How you doing hon?"

"Ness, bro!"

"Yo Ness! Sick party man! Come on over, I still wanna have a chance to beat you in Smash!"

…It's good to be on top.

With a lethargic but very happy smile, I trudge off to my locker.

-01210-

…first day of school's off to an interesting start, to say the least.

Me, Jeff, Fuel, and everyone else in my first period English class are staring at the new student. I mean, it isn't so much that he is Dalaamian, it is more that he decided to come to school maxed out on every possible Dalaamian quality.

Seriously, he is wearing a white bath robe cloth thingy, and his black hair is tied up in a ponytail.

A fucking ponytail.

And right now, he is either doing a wonderful job ignoring the stares of everyone in the class, or he simply doesn't notice. Because… y'know. Oriental eyes. Ahem.

Anyways, at that point the teacher (some old bearded guy with his shirt tucked in so far into his pants that he looks like he's ¾ legs) comes in and tells us to quiet down.

He isn't doing a good job of hiding his stare at the new kid either.

Of course, as is the gay tradition of starting every year of classes, the teacher forces us to introduce ourselves. He then, in a pathetic attempt to make things 'interesting', will ask us a completely random question, and hope to get to know us better through our answer.

When he gets to Fuel, he asks. "Which came first, the chicken or the egg?"

To which Fuel replies, "Your mother, last night."

Bam.

That is totally worth the detention he got.

I'm pretty sure I hear every person in the room hold their breaths when teacher rounds to the new Dalaamian kid.

"Well, young man, introduce yourself."

In true stereotypical fashion, he stands up abruptly, back straight, and says the following.

"Nin men hao. Wo de ming zhi shi Pu He Shan, xie xie nin men huan yin wo dao zhe ge guo jia."

Well then.

I wonder if he'll be willing to tutor me for future English exams.

After receiving a round of amused and confused faces, a wave of realization comes over his face, and he starts again, in a slightly more comprehensible manner.

"Hello. Thank you for... welcoming me into... this country. You may call me Poo."

That's not half bad. Although someone should tell him the Eagleland education system doesn't necessitate bowing every time he's addressed. He's gonna need to find a comfortable niche in the school to avoid getting singled out and preyed on.

English goes by without anymore hitches. I got reacquainted with most of my buds, even though I saw then literally a day ago at that end of summer party. I remember making sure I had at least one good friend in every subject. Not that hard considering I'm me. Having buddies in the same classes has benefits, like making time go by faster.

Or more often than not, a backup for when I 'forget' to do homework.

That's how school works.

But most importantly, I got some more sleep out of a relatively boring first period. 3,600,000,000,000 nanoseconds more. When Jeff wakes me up, I see a puddle of drool on my desk. Good luck whoever uses this after me.

The bell rings, and we file out, taking care to snicker a bit more at Mr. Poo as he marches to his next class. Fuel and I fist bump for his earlier rebuttal before he runs off, leaving me and Jeff to go off to Physics.

Ah, Jeff. Jeff, Jeff, Jeff. I'll get into him a bit later, when we get to his natural habitat.

Because at the meantime, we've reached a scene that's all too familiar around these parts.

Ninten, leaning back against the lockers, hands around Ana (hottie), who's standing on her toes to reach up to his face. Sharing a deep, deep kiss. Seriously, so deep that there could be a fire around them and they wouldn't notice.

Guess they picked up things right where they left off at the end of last year.

It's such common knowledge that these two are in love that literally hordes of students are shuffling past them without a glance. They may as well be part of the school infrastructure.

We walk up to them just as they break apart. Ninten and I exchange a grin and a bro hug. Though I much more enjoyed the friendly one Ana gives me afterwards. Of course, she also gives one to Jeff, but the genius (sarcastically speaking this time) is stiff as a board. Seriously, Jeff sometimes couldn't seem gayer if I slapped him in the face with a rainbow coloured condom.

But back to the other man of the minute, Ninten. It's sometimes creepy hanging out with him, since he has the uncanny ability to look almost exactly like me. We share the same black moppy hair and shit eating grin. I swear if he chooses to wear a cap like me he can be my stunt double. It's like having a mirror that moves around with you.

Other than that, he's a much better guy than me. He's calmer. More mature. Or whatever the fuck.

He also _never _swears. Ana keeps him in line.

In other words he's totally pussy whipped.

Well, so am I, to be fair.

Damn these beautiful blonde goddesses.

We hang out for a few minutes, and plan a few double dates. Not tonight, of course, since tonight I will be grounded. And trying to sneak out of a house guarded by my mom is the equivalent of shooting yourself in the kneecap with a shotgun.

Then off to Physics.

Ahh, ze wild Jeff, in his natural biome.

The thing about Mr. Andonuts here is that he's smart. As in, a nerd by nerd standards smart. The thick glasses and bowl haircut accentuate that point. You know where I learned that word? Accentuate? Jeff.

So why do I hang with him? A guy like me would be committing social suicide by being friendly with 'dorks' like Jeff. Well, we go way back. And he's also willing to help us dumber folks with schoolwork, so my friends have no problem with him hanging around me.

To be honest, I think they only keep him around for school help.

To be honest, _I_ only keep him around for school help.

I think he actually looks at me as a real, dependable friend, and in a certain way that is true. But I don't think I reciprocate his feelings to quite the extent he has for me.

He's a lot better than Pokey though. At least he's useful.

Anyways, he takes off his Grade 11 Physics course in a jet engine, and by the time I wake up after another 0.041666 days of sleep, he's already on a leash and wagging his tail at the teacher. I smile. At least I know I'll be passing Physics.

So that's half a day gone. After sharing lunches with Paula and some shameless PDA in the cafeteria, I am off to Art.

Why the fuck did I take Art?

The reasoning seemed good in my head when I picked it. It seemed like an easy as hell elective to pass, and the seats for Music class were full. Ninten promised to take it with me as well.

Turns out, Ninten is the person who took the last available spot for Music. So now I'm stuck in this dumb class without a single person I'm familiar with.

I walk into the spacious classroom, and sure enough, am met with the kinds of people I expected to be in high school Art elective.

Crazy chicks and Goths.

Since I am the hottest guy born into this world, all the crazy chicks immediately slide over and give me their most charming smile, hoping I would sit next to them. But since I am committed to Paula and having normal kids, no way girls. Goths creep the fuck out of me, with their black lipstick and black everything else, so they are out of the option as well.

This class is gonna turn me insane.

Then, success! An open seat beside a relatively normal looking guy. I speed over to it, with all eyes on me as I travel across the classroom. They must've never seen a sane person before me.

Plopping down, I get a better glance at my classroom neighbour. Some off-beat blondie with a pretty cool anti-gravity hairstyle. I vaguely recognize him as some background character throughout my last 2 years of high school. I've never seen this in any of the groups I hang out with... or with anybody else, really. Wonder if he's a loner.

Then I look down, and I tell ya, I didn't think you could write your own name in such a retardedly fancy way until I saw this kid's paper. Seriously, I had to search between a mess (a very nice looking mess) of what looked like flowers and guns and animals just to read one word.

'Lucas'

His signatures probably took up half the page and a full hour to finish.

Since my reputation precedes me, there aren't many people in the school who don't know who Ness is or what the handsome devil looks like, and while I don't expect people to bow down before my presence (as nice as that sounds), I've come to expect at least a reaction when you sit beside the height of popularity.

But this guy, nothing. Not a passing glance, an acknowledging sound, nada.

And for some reason, that pisses me off.

Or maybe that's just me being irritable due to lack of rest, who knows.

The least I can be thankful for is that he's quiet. Well, so are the Goth kids, but I don't count men who wear mascara and bleach their faces as regular students.

I only need the teacher to drone for 15 seconds before I lose interest and fall asleep in Art class as well.

Only this time, I'm in for a rude awakening.

Somebody shakes my shoulder, and when I pry my eyes open, the first thing I see is a cartoonish pencil drawing placed in front of me. The drawing is of me sleeping, hands folded underneath a pretty well doodled face. And apparently when I sleep I create a huge snot bubble from my nose. And inside that bubble was one word.

'DUMBASS'

My head shoots up and I glare at my new desk neighbour, who's standing and ready to go to the next class, looking down at me with an innocent smile. Then he promptly leaves.

I hope that Lucas kid knows that he basically just kicked a sharks' nest with cleats.

Or however that analogy goes.

I drag myself out of the class, motivated by the fact that the learning portion of my day is nearly over.

Also helps that last period is my favourite. Gym.

Our teacher does good to pick dodgeball as a get-to-know-each-other sport, because I really need to bean some heads in. It's therapeutically proven to relieve stress.

And holy shit what a game it becomes.

So that Dalaamian kid, Poo, ended up in my Gym class, and I swear to god, I haven't seen a dude shoot up in popularity like this since the Great Lloyd/Ninten Union of 2011.

Because it doesn't matter if you speak the language badly, or that you dress like a monk to an Eagleland high school, or that your name is the equivalent of feces in English.

All that matters is that you can dodge balls with somersaults and backflips, and that you can throw a ball at the speed of sound with the accuracy of a sniper rifle.

And so the name 'Kung Fu Poo' is born.

While the rest of the class surrounds Mr. Kung Fu Poo as he talks about bringing in his Sword of Kings or whatever, I pack my equipment and lead Fuel and Ninten to the baseball field. Tryouts start immediately for the Onett ball team, and I ain't about to miss a chance to grace the pitch with my godly skills.

I lend my cap to Fuel and keep him between myself and Ninten as we pass our grumpy English teacher.

On my way there I swear I saw my car backed up into a tree trunk.

Oh Paula, I love you so, but _come on_…


	3. Gods of baseball work in strange ways

My eyes scan over the dusty field.

It's quiet.

Too quiet.

Time to rock things up a bit.

Every year, Onett's Meteors Baseball Team conduct tryouts by pitching two randomly selected teams from the pool of unskilled geeks that try to get into the squad against each other. The coaches watch the performance of each player and filter out students accordingly.

So let me set the scene for you here. Bottom Ninth, score tied, Ninten and Fuel on base, two out.

Time for the baseball god to shine his divine awesomeness over the field.

I step up and stare straight at the pitcher. He's practically rattling in his shoes.

As he should be. I already have 7 home runs and 15 RBIs this game. The only reason their team is even close to us in score is because nobody in this school knows how to pitch. Fastballs were as fast as cheetahs... piloting blimps, and curveballs were as curved as flagpoles.

I swear the only reason we lost last season to the Fourside Faggots (possibly not their real team name) was because of abysmal pitching. I'm pretty sure our starters mean ERA was somewhere around Jeff's IQ. For you non-sports nerds out there, ERAs are better when they're low.

So, back to the scenario. The coaches are dead silent. The crowd is dead silent. The crickets are dead silent.

The pitcher finally works up the nerve to toss a 'fastball' at me. A crack of the bat later, the ball is on its way to Winters.

As I slowly jog around the field to thunderous applause, I see the coaches beam at me and give me thumbs ups. I cross home plate, high five Ninten and Fuel, and walk towards the crowd.

All the lady students are squealing and jumping around, chanting my name, but I only have my eyes on one of them. I pull Paula out of the crowd, and kiss her passionately on the lips as the applause from spectators and teammates alike raises to a deafening tone...

"Ness! NESS!"

...huh?

"Snap out of it man!" Fuel pats me on the back. "It's your turn to bat!"

Oh... right.

Hey, the point of daydreams is to make yourself look as awesome as possible, right?

I pick up my bat and trot out of the dugout into the blazing sun.

I tap the home plate with the bat, like any professional would. I ready myself, and stare menacingly at the scrawny pitcher who would dare throw a ball anywhere near home plate.

He gulps, and fires a snail's pace fastball right over the plate. I swing as hard as I can.

"Strike one!"

Okay, miscalculated the position. That fastball was going so slowly that it probably dipped by the time it came over.

Will not happen again.

Next pitch, pathetic excuse for a slider...

"Strike two!"

Alright then, 0 for 2 so far, but I only need one to h...

"Strike three, you're out!"

Well then.

Okay, so remember all those times when I said that I was a god of baseball. You don't? Okay perfect, I don't have to explain anything then.

...Fine. I may have been slightly, slightly exaggerating when I said that.

Truth is, even though I have all the top of the line merchandise for Eagleland's favourite past time, there exists the small possibility... that I completely suck at the sport.

Last year my batting average was .129 and I scored 4 runs.

But who cares about stats anyways.

I mean, there's still plenty of reasons why I'm awesomesauce and one of the most popular kids in school. Baseball's just not one of them.

To be fair, the Meteors haven't really brought any success standings wise for quite a number of centuries now. The only reason we even had wins under our belt the past 2 years were because of Ninten's blistering .437 batting and Fuel's combined 104 home plate crosses. So yeah, nobody cares about the school's baseball team.

Anyways, after another agonizing 2 hours, the tryout game is over.

And pathetically enough, I make it in.

I thought I saw Fuel and Ninten pleading with the coaches, but I'll just pretend I didn't for the sake of my own pride.

Fuel catches me trying to sneak away though, grinning widely, before completely ripping my masculinity open with jokes about how I let my girlfriend drive my car. Luckily the extent of that is just harmless joking. Leaves me plenty embarrassed though.

Reaching the parking lot, l look around. Looks like Paula already went home by herself. How loyal of her, jeez.

I'm just happy to find that my car is actually one inch away from the tree trunk, not crushed against it.

Pull into my driveway, walk in the door, throw my ball gear to the side closet, and walk straight for my room. Man, what a first day…

Passing Tracy's, she calls out, "Hey bro, how did ball practise go?" In a smartass voice.

"Shut up, Trace..."

I lock the door to my room, and go to my closet. I dig around my cabinets, frowning as I can't find what I'm looking for. For some reason, my X-Rated Magazines (I'm a 16 year old teenager, gimme a break) went missing around a month ago, and still haven't turned up. It made the nights when I couldn't see Paula just a bit less bearable.

I plop on my bed, not even wanting to eat dinner. I'm supposed to be serving my grounding anyways. Hopefully I can get some good sleep tonight, I don't wanna look like shit for a second day in a row.


	4. Front doors have feelings too, y'know

Well, good news is I slept, but not 'slept' slept. More like woke up every 4 seconds in the middle of the night.

It's very rare for me to have one of those nights where you just close your eyes and, bam, it's morning. I have a weird case of insomnia, and to be honest, I'm pretty ashamed of it.

The thing is, I get nightmares quite often. I can't remember most of what exactly I have nightmares about, all I know is I'd wake up in cold sweat, and sometimes screaming my head off.

When I was younger, I had the luxury of waking my mom up in the middle of the night and crawling into bed with her, and I'd sleep better like that. But if I willingly continued that past the age of 8, I might as well pack my dignity in a box and bury it in the backyard. Plus, I thought that my nightmares would recede more as I grow up.

Turns out, that's not the case, and I still occasionally wake up screaming in terror like an idiot. Mom still offer's the console of her bed, but I adamantly refuse...

…most of the time...

...God, it's just that... sometimes the nightmares would get so damn bad that I'd wake up fucking _crying_... sobbing my eyes out uncontrollably...

Argh… It's so goddamn pathetic!

Mom's the only one who could help me when I get to that state. Her and Tracy agreed to not let this secret out of our house. I really need to tell them both how much I love them more.

How fucking lame. 'I can't sleep because I have chronic nightmares and I have no idea why.' Makes me sound like a goddamn wimp.

Thankfully, no one will ever know.

-01210-

The whole day, Ninten and Ana kept sending me winks every time they saw me. A little premonition, for our double date tonight, perhaps. Looking forward to spending time with my Paulie-Pie and two of my best buds is enough to put me in a good mood the whole day of school.

The mood is sorta dampened when I step inside Art and sit beside… what's the kid's name again?

I peer over at his paper.

'リュカ'

Yeah, him.

Anyway, I'm still salty about the quick one he pulled on me that first day. You don't harass a man during his most vulnerable time, that's just unacceptable.

But I decided to let it slide, since he wouldn't dare do anything with me fully awake and attentive, and 'cause I don't wanna get worked up for tonight.

…or maybe I do… right Paula?

Right after school I rush home, take a shower, and prepare for my public appearance with Paula, Ninten and Ana, the two latter of which made probably the classiest couple ever. That'll be explained soon.

An hour or so later, I'm still trying to get out of my own house without further badgering from mother. She says I look like a hoodlum. I glance in the mirror. A black leather jacket over a blue and cream striped shirt, my favourite Red Rox cap, put on sideways, and jean shorts.

I don't see it.

"What do you think, Trace?"

My sister peers over from the couch, where she's watching TV. "About as good as a braindead loser like you can look."

"Tracy." Mom warns half heartedly. She is still staring at me like she's about to tear into my clothes and put on a suit and tie.

"Hey, come on Trace, help me out here." I call.

Rolling her eyes, she slumps over like she's dragging a cinderblock tied to her leg, which by the way, is not too far down on my list of 'Ways to Deal with Tracy if She Gets Too Out of Hand'.

"From a chick's perspective, am I hot or am I _hawt_?" I ask, totally serious.

She scoffs. "More like _nawt._"

"Come on, tell me the truth."

"You're asking the wrong person."

"Why? 'cause you're my sister?"

"Not just that."

"Then what?"

She looks like she is about to say something, but then holds fast, and gets a weirdly secretive, almost embarrassed, expression on her face.

…oh yeah.

Still not crossing that bridge.

'BAM, BAM, BAM'

Interrupting us is the most obnoxious knocking sound I've ever heard. I sigh.

Okay, let me tell you of the plight of our front door.

Once upon a time, there was a front door who happily sat in its doorframe, granting entrance to the home's wonderful inhabitants. And Tracy. The door lived a simple, peaceful, and non abused life.

Then one day, a car followed by a moving truck came up to the home beside ours. Now who could that be? For a few days, the new residents of the neighbouring home remained hidden, but then one afternoon, up to the front door came a young boy. The door was happy to see a new face, and would have gladly allowed this young boy entrance.

But soon the door was crying in anguish and despair as the boy's fat, disgusting fists relentlessly banged and rapped against it, shaking its very foundation, making a sound that could be heard in Chommo. Ever since that day, the front door lived in fear that the boy would return…

'BAM, BAM, BAM'

"I'll take this one." I mutter to my mom and sister. "STOP THE GODDAMN KNOCKING, POKEY!" I holler as I step heavily to the front entrance.

I delay the inevitable as long as possible, opening the door slowly.

There he is, the lard-ass in all his obnoxious glory. Eyes still hidden underneath that blonde hair.

"Ness! You didn't need to get dressed just to play with me!" Pokey grins.

That's another thing. 16 year olds don't fucking 'play' together. We're not boy scouts experimenting at summer camp.

"I'm not hanging out with you tonight Pokey, I have a date with Paula." I utter patiently.

"Aww come on Ness! Why can't we do stuff together like we used to?" He whines.

"Listen, it's nothing against you, alright?" Lie. "It's just that… you're a great guy," Lie. "But sometimes you can be a little… too much." Understatement.

"Yeah, I guess I can be a bit too cool for my own good at times," he snickers. "But come on, I wouldn't mind sharing some of my coolosity with you."

Honking interrupts us. Mr. Polestar's old scrap metal vehicle. Paula said something about his dad not 'trusting' his little girl's boy friend (intentionally separated), and wanting to see where he lived.

Right here, you old prick. Did you expect perhaps the sewers?

After a small argument at the car, Paula comes over, greeting me with a peck on the lips and a hug. One which I would've enjoyed more if I weren't under the scrutiny of both Mr. Polestar and Minch Jr. here.

She had put on a dark blue corset with a middle length black skirt. As I take in her beautiful form, I'm also imagining the argument in her home, 'cause Mr. Polestar (who drove away rapidly as soon as we finished hugging) sure as hell wouldn't let his baby dress like this in public.

Pokey has taken to circling Paula.

"Umm… hi, erm… who are you?" she asks, understandably put off.

"So you're Ness's loved lady, eh?" Pokey snickers.

Oh god, someone help me.

"…yes, yes I am."

He keeps snickering, then puts a hand on my shoulder. I'll have to remember to bleach that part when I shower again tonight.

"Heh, I guess she ain't half bad, Ness ol' buddy. Though she could use some work on her sizes."

What.

"Y'know, her…" He actually makes a hand gesture underneath his chest, like he is cradling two balloons in front of him.

"Pokey, I am so close to taking out my bat and going to town on your chubby ass right now." I say fiercely.

"Hey, come on, I was kidding! You knew that right toots?" He elbows Paula in the arm.

I have to get her away from this freak, now.

As I speed down the road, with Paula riding shotgun and wiping her arm vigorously with a tissue, I can't help but feel a bit bad for Pokey Minch.

He was right, back in the day, we did hang out quite often, as I was the only kid tolerant enough to screw around with him. And those times weren't half bad, I do remember quite a lot of fun times being around Pokey. But as I grew up, and my taste evolved, he seemed to become more and more insufferable. I tried to pry away from him as kindly and gently as possible, but he clung on relentlessly. And I didn't have the heart to straight up tell him to get lost.

From the tidbits of his home life I've witnesses, him and his brother are victims to pretty bad parental abuse, not necessarily physically, more psychologically, from two very contradicting styles of parenting. His dad's a straight up dick biscuit, while his mom overly coddles him, but does precisely jack shit to stop her husband's abuse of her sons. I'm still trying to figure out what this has done to Pokey's mental state.

Bottom line is, I cannot and will not hang out with him in public, despite what I feel about him. I shudder to think what my friends would say when they see me with Pokey. But I also gotta tread lightly around him, 'cause I can't help but feel he's one push away from losing it. Funnily enough, I can totally imagine him as a supervillain, probably walking around inside a spider mech or something to carry his ass.

Enough about that fatty. Need to focus on tonight.

We stop at Frank's Fire House, which is surprisingly actually a gourmet restaurant. And it takes very little effort to find Ninten and Ana.

They step out of Ninten's Classic Corvette, a present from his uncle Giegue, Ninten going over to open Ana's door and reaching out a gentle hand to direct her out.

Ninten wore a black suit set with black pants and shoes. And not those cheap, Department Store suits, like a full on, 3 grand shining suit. Inside is a white shirt and striped tie. On his head is a black bowler hat that completed the image of the perfect gentleman.

Ana is in a sparkling, light blue dress. Don't confuse those with skirts, I mean like a real, full on, covers her legs, silky dress. Wrapped around her waist is a purple ribbon, and on her head is a large, straw hat. Her face is impeccable as usual, no excessive makeup needed to highlight her beautiful visage. The perfect lady.

And, just to rub it in more, Ninten leads the way while daintily holding onto Ana's hand, the two stepping in complete sync.

Like I said. Classiest couple.

As Paula and Ana squeal at each other's outfits and start their usual bout of endlessly complimenting each other, Ninten and I exchange confident grins.

"Hey man, looking maxed out on coolosity tonight."

"Thanks, I… what?"

"Never mind."

We lead our ladies in to the restaurant for a sure to be perfect evening.


	5. The people around you

The question plays over and over in my mind.

How did it happen?

It was so sudden, so unexplained, such a massive shock.

It happened right after the double date ended. It happened so violently quick that I literally gaped and moved my mouth up and down without a sound like a fish outta water for the first 10 seconds after hearing the news.

Ninten and Ana broke up.

It almost feels awkward, taboo-ish, to say those words in that order. Like when God created the world, he made it so that those words couldn't be said without causing extreme discomfort to the speaker.

But _how? _ How the fuck did the most perfect couple in the goddamn world just suddenly… end? Just like that?

And I'm not exaggerating when I said most perfect couple. They were quite literally, the Dictionary picture for couple. Ninten and Ana both came from high class families with pretty strict moral and behavioural guidelines. Ninten's firm but gentle and caring personality complimented so well with Ana's sweet and mild one. They never fought as far as I knew. Even Paula and I had our fair shares of spats, public and private. They never seemed discontent with each other's presences, though that obviously was not true.

_So how the fuck did it happen?_

Was it because of us? I try to think back to yesterday night. There we were, sitting in the restaurant. They were daintily enjoying their food, respectfully offering each other drinks and sharing the occasional kiss. Total class acts. I could've never pulled that off, me and Paula were goofing around a lot with our food, giggling like maniacs. We looked like total slobs in front of them.

But did we do anything that would've caused their split? Not that I can remember. They acted normal, we acted normal, just another normal ass, normal double date. I remember them saying that they had a lot of fun, too.

God… imagine my surprise when I heard Ninten call my cell later that night. That's the first sign that something's wrong, when you get a _call _on you cell. Nobody calls each other these days, it's all about texting.

I gotta say, it hurt hearing Ninten sound so… energy sapped and depressed. Of course he didn't cry or anything, Ninten doesn't cry, it's like, basic physics or something. But still, listening to him mumble into the phone, I really felt for the guy.

We talked for a long time that night, discussing anything and everything. It had been a while since I talked so long with him. Too bad it was over such a brooding atmosphere. Paula probably did the same with Ana.

Shit man, only the first month of grade 11, and already things are going awry.

-01210-

Our school runs a newspaper that nobody reads called the Onett Owl. I guess that's some kind of half clever metaphor. But still, the extent of usage for the Onett Owl was for paper airplanes and spitballs.

Until today.

I don't know how, _I don't know how_ they knew about it less than a night after it happened, but here it is, emblazoned across the front banner in cliché black and white newspaper font.

"Ninten and Ana's Break Up Shakes School Foundations."

I don't think I've picked up a newspaper faster in my life.

I don't think I've ever been so eager to read in my life.

I don't think I've ever been angrier after reading it in my life.

People are giving me the strangest looks as I stomp towards whatever closet the geeks use to print out this piece of shit paper. What the fuck are they staring at? It's not like they don't know Ninten and I are best buds. It's not like they shouldn't have expected me to be pissed off after finding out that Ninten and Ana break up is being publicized.

Here's the thing. I live my life inside a few overlapping bubbles. People outside the bubbles are strangers. People within the outermost one are acquaintances or distant relatives. People inside the second one are friends who I hang out with, but aren't too close to. People inside the innermost bubble are my family and closest friends. Like, friends I would consider brothers or sisters.

If anybody who're not in the innermost bubble upsets anyone inside the innermost bubble, they have about ½ a second allowed to them to pray before they get an angry Ness in their face.

I know Ninten very well, enough to be able to say on his behalf that he doesn't need attention drawn to his break up with Ana.

As unfortunate as it is, however, that would be impossible, since the most conspicuous couple in Onett High ending would be as unnoticeable as gravity disappearing.

But what this paper's doing is speeding up the process. In fact, the article already put down a bunch of theories on how it happened and what caused it, promoting rumours that would pressure and hurt Ninten and Ana even more. High school's ruthless like that.

The more I think about it, the more pissed off I get. Those writers are gonna get pencils shoved so far up their asses they'll be coughing up wood shavings.

A few girls giggle and give me mischievous looks as I storm past them. What the fuck is up with this place today?

I fling open the newspaper club's classroom.

"Hi! Welcome to the Onett Owl's office, do you have a story to re… port…"

The voice trails off as I stare heatedly at her.

Fuck I should've guessed.

Nana (admittedly hottie) is not only the noisiest and most talkative chick to have ever been conceived, she puts her talent to use on the stupidest thing ever. Gossip. She has the uncanny ability to know things (especially rumour worthy things) that have happened before anyone else. An ability she's about to regret abusing.

Right now the chatty blonde is looking at me with a rather frightened look. Good, at least she's not completely stupid.

"How the hell did you even get into this club, you mouthy bitch?" I growl. "Last time I checked this was an objective newspaper, not a gossip magazine!"

"Well, I needed an extracurricular activity to keep me occupied, but chess club, tennis, AV club, drama club, art club, cafeteria helpers, breakfast club, and the prefects wouldn't let me in so I thought I would get into this one since thepaperinthisschoolwaslikesoooooooounpopularbefor eandIthoughtIcouldchange-."

"Take. The article. Off." Fun fact, it's hard to talk with your teeth clenched.

"Well, it's a bit too late for that now, we've already printed today's copies and sent them around the school…"

I should do something horrible. I really should. I should rip out her tongue and wrap it around her throat or something.

But I can't. Not only because she's a girl, and I gotta stay true to my man code even when pissed, but because I have a feeling she can't help being the annoying, talkative chick she is. Her mouth got her in trouble plenty of times before, but she still constantly yaps away like a parrot on crack. Nana wouldn't be Nana without her infamous mouth.

I meant for talking, not the other way you sick assholes.

So I settle for a sigh, deflating myself of anger.

"Hey, it's not that bad. I mean, I bet your article would be a hit too!" Nana says cheerfully.

…hold up.

_My_ article?

An immediate answer to that question presents itself as the classroom door opens again, and in squeezes a person I had seen too much of in the past 16 hours.

Oh. Oh fuck no. Please, for the love of god no.

"Neeessss! I knew it! Ya came to praise me for my article right?" Pokey hollers happily.

Please, please let this be another nightmare.

"I think I captured your finest points in there! Now the whole school will know how great you are, all thanks to your best buddy!"

I look at Nana pleadingly. "Tell me he's joking."

"Your little friend here begged to join, and I couldn't say no. So I let him write a few articles for the paper as long as they were interesting." Nana says.

I grab a copy of the paper. Only one other time had I been so eager to read in my life.

On the second goddamn page, there it was.

"The Pinnacle of High School Perfection, You Don't Mess with Ness."

Okay, seriously. I can wake up now.

The more I read, the more my face heats up. That's why those students were giving me weird looks and giggles. This article makes me look like fucking Adonis. Like Kanye East.

"Whaddya think?"

"The school's gonna think I'm the most conceited, narcissistic douchebag who's ever lived!" I croak, horrified.

Just what I need. I work hard to keep my reputation as an all around likeable guy. Then it all gets ruined by this… attention seeking, ass kissing idiot. I may still have a chance to salvage my self-worth if I explain the misunderstanding…

Never mind this. I'm here for Ninten.

After some thorough convincing that may or may not have involved death threats, I'm satisfied that neither Pokey nor Nana would try a stunt like that again in the Onett Owl.

But my face is still burning as I move through the hallways. I can feel the stares directed towards me, the whispers. Oh god this sucks.

There's a scuffling sound, a bang of something getting slammed against the metal lockers, and some frightened yelps.

Something's going down, hell if I'm gonna miss it.

Turning the corner, I see something quite unexpected indeed. Ninten, face seething, holding up some kid against the lockers. The kid looks like he's gonna crap his pants. Don't blame him, when Ninten gets angry, he's a monster. He can probably drop the entire B.B Gang by himself if he ever gets pissed enough at them.

Paula is there, looking freaked out, hands covering her mouth. I move to go comfort her…

"Since you don't know how to shut your fucking mouth, I'm gonna do it for you, permanently!" Ninten yells furiously at the pleading kid.

…Ninten never swears…

He then raises a fist in the air.

Oh shit!

"Dude, stop!" I rush over and grab his arm.

He turns around, and I gotta tell ya, the look on his face sends chills all over my body. It's animalistic, absolutely terrifying.

He rips his arm from my grip, sending me flying back in the process.

Oh man, he's outta control!

He turns back to his victim, and raises his fist again. I scramble back up and rush to stop him.

But someone beats me to it. A blur of brown comes outta nowhere, tackling him to the ground and pinning him there.

"Dude, chill the fuck out!" Fuel yells, pressing Ninten's arms down on the floor.

I tell the kid Fuel saved to beat it, which he does in a heartbeat. I see some other people run up, one is Jeff, the other a white haired geeky dude who I recognize as Lloyd. Trailing them is Kung Fu Poo, who I'm surprised to see there.

I rush over to Paula and hug her as she shakes in my arms. She gives me the succinct version of what transpired. Apparently the kid was reading the newspaper and giggling like a hyena at the lead story. Unfortunately Ninten happened to be passing by, and lost it immediately. Which is worrying considering that he's one of the most patient and collected people I've ever met.

"It was so scary, seeing him like that." Paula whispers. I rub her back comfortingly.

"He lacks discipline." A heavily accented voice muses. We turn to see the Dalaamian Poo staring at a struggling Ninten, with Fuel still on top of him holding him down. "One must not let his emotions get out of control, especially in the times where his life seems most uncertain."

"I thought this school ran a newspaper, not a fucking gossip magazine! Get the fuck offa me man!" Ninten yells heatedly. This does not convince Fuel to get the fuck offa him.

Footsteps. The dude called Lloyd suddenly goes over and shoves, _shoves,_ Fuel off Ninten. I think Fuel is just as surprised as everyone else is that some pasty nerd just got physical with him.

Ninten pushes himself up, glaring at Fuel, who glares back.

Those two can do a lot of damage to each other if they get into a fight…

"Guys, that's enough! Chill out!" I demand firmly, tightening the arm I had around Paula instinctively.

Fuel hesitates, but listens and breaks the stare, relaxing himself.

Ninten though seems like he's still itching to punch something.

But again, Lloyd holds Ninten back with a hand on his shoulder, and surprisingly, I see my lookalike friend's posture sag a bit.

"Hey, Jeff." He calls. Jeff almost jumps at his name. "Functions homework due Friday. Give it to me by then, got it?" Ninten's not using the kindest tone.

"Y-yes, of course." Jeff answers shakily.

With that, Ninten walks off, Lloyd following. But as he leaves, he glances over at me and Paula, who's still in my arms. I can't help but feel a pang of pity. We watch him disappear around a wall.

A bit of the tension dissipates, and I can practically hear everyone let out a breath of relief.

I look over at the lockers. There's a large dent in them that I'm pretty sure wasn't there at the beginning of the year.

"Meet up after school guys, we'll talk about _this_…" Fuel holds up a copy of the paper, "in more detail then. You guys went on a double date yesterday, right?"

We nod.

Fuel sighs, probably not knowing how to deal with this situation anymore than we do. "Fill me in then. I haven't seen Ana all day either. Try to find her."

Ana's missing presence was definitely not unnoticed.

"And Ness?"

"Yeah Fuel?"

"Try to keep your ego under control." He smirks at me as he waves the Onett Owl around in front of my eyes.

My face heats up again as Paula giggles.

"Dude, it was-."

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Fuel says airily as he begins to walk away as well. "See ya in English. Oh, and Jeff?"

"Y-yes?"

"Our English paper's due tomorrow, get on that for me, would ya?"

"Right, of course." Jeff laughs nervously, adjusting his thick glasses.

"Cool, see ya guys." Fuel disappears too.

I sigh, stifling a yawn. Didn't sleep much last night again, but for different reasons that time.

"Honey, you think Ninten's going to be alright?" Paula wonders, always the worrying mama bear.

"Hey, the guy's a trooper, I'm sure he's just finding his own way to deal with things right now."

"I've never seen him lose his cool composure before. I hope it's just a phase."

"Don't worry, he'd never go crazy enough to hurt his friends." I say, but not especially convinced myself, remembering the feral look he gave me when I stopped his arm.

"I'll go talk to Ana in Cooking. See how she's holding up." Paula pulls away from my hold, giving me a quick kiss. "Oh, and Jeff sweetie?"

"Y-yes Ms. Paula?"

"Can you please have my History notes ready for 4th period? Thanks a bunch." She smiles her warmest smile. I snort quietly.

"R-right you are, Ms. Paula." Jeff clears his throat. I can see some beads of sweat begin to form on his forehead.

"See you after school, baby." She waves at me as she joins the crowd of students down the hall.

"Worry not, Master Ness." I jump a bit, forgetting Mr. Poo's still standing there. "I am certain your friend Master Ninten will pull through."

Gotta give credit where credit is due. This man's really learning the language. His natural Dalaamian wisdom is welcome as well. Now all he has to work on is his fashion sense. Robes still are not the most tasteful things to wear. I nod, giving him a sincere grin.

He bows back in response.

"Ah, and Master Jeffrey?"

"Y-yes, M-master Poo?"

"I still require help learning the specifics of the English language. Can you please have that 'slang' dictionary you promised me by next Monday?"

"M-my pleasure."

"Excellent. My deepest gratitude." Poo bows to Jeff as well, who's looking more and more flustered as the morning goes on. Then the Dalaamian ninjas away.

His niche in this school is really shaping up.

Left to myself, I think about how things would go down in the future. Somehow, we've gotta keep the attention off Ninten, try to deflect as much of the oncoming waves of questions and rumours that were sure to hit us.

Most importantly though, Ninten and Ana would need us to be the absolute rocks as their lives go through a major shakedown. Seeing how the breakup has already affected Ninten has got me wondering how Ana's doing, and how far the effects of their breakup will go on them personally. And how this is gonna affect our group of friends as a whole. I really hope that Ninten and Ana could still remain at least decent towards each other, otherwise it's gonna get pretty awkward.

Oh, and there's the case of my self-righteous article in the paper as well. I have a feeling it isn't gonna be easy convincing the masses that I'm not an egotistical jerk. Damn it Pokey, why are you such a pain in the ass? Doing shit like this isn't gonna make me wanna be friends with you. I wonder if his brain is so twisted that he doesn't actually realize that.

Man, how did things shoot the shit so fast? It's still fucking September. Isn't high school supposed to be the best time of your life or some BS like that? Wonder how the rest of the year's gonna go. Hopefully this will be the most eventful thing to happen for a good while.

I hear a small cough beside me.

"Oh, right Jeff, thanks for reminding me." I say. "Our Physics assignment is due Thursday, finish that for me please?"

"W-what? Yeah, sure, b-but I thought… that…"

"Thanks, you're a real good friend." I smile at him, before running off to my locker to retrieve my books for the day.

I almost feel bad for him.

Almost.


	6. No, the other 'L' word

Where am I? _Where am I?_

Why is everything so dark?

Breathe…_ can't breathe!_

My heart's not beating…_ why isn't my heart beating?_

_Help me…_

_Somebody help me…!_

I open my eyes with a gasp.

For a few minutes I just lay there, taking shaky breaths. My sheets are soaked with sweat. My heart is threatening to jump outta my chest.

I roll over and peer at my digital alarm clock.

12:14 A.M

God. Damn. It.

God fucKING DAMN IT!

I pound my fist into my pillow, which makes an unsatisfying poomft sound in response. I can feel my eyes get watery.

…just let me sleep… please…

-01210-

December rolled in clashing cymbals together.

Onett's in the middle of Eagleland, pretty near to the equator, so the weather stays relatively warm all 12 months in most years.

Unless it's the year 2013, which is the year that came in and said 'I wanna be different, I ain't no conformist' and decided to dump a metre and a half of snow onto our town.

The average number of snow removing equipment owned by each household in Onett is somewhere around 0.012, so the streets are gonna stay blanketed with the white for quite a while. Good news that comes with this is that school is cancelled too, so good on ya, 2013, for being different.

Unfortunately, trying to open a door would be inviting a mini avalanche into our home, so the family's spending quality time together whether we'll like it or not.

...but mom's fighting the winter sniffles, so she's cooped up in bed for what seems like the rest of the day. Leaving me and Tracy to do whatever by ourselves.

It's a shame. Trace and I used to do a lot of stuff together, but ever since she hit that whiny teenager mark, she has really isolated herself from mom and I. Mom's been getting pretty worked up about it, and can't say that I'm not a bit concerned either. It's become so rare seeing her in our house not locked in her room, that half the time I've begun to forget I had a baby sister.

So I guess it's to be expected when I pass her room to find it completely shut with a large sign hanging on the doorknob that says 'People with Black Hair Not Allowed.'

That's just… racist…?

Colour-ist…?

Whatever.

Anyways, after a pretty quiet and peaceful morning I go down to make a sandwich lunch to bring up to mom. Then I make some spaghetti for Tracy and I. Can't say I'm not proud of myself for being at least half decent at cooking. Whenever Fuel tries to fry something, he ends up covered in soot.

I consider making a small plate for our phone, but am too lazy to carry out with it. Sorry dad.

"Trace, ya up for some lunch?" I holler.

I wait a few moments, almost sure that she isn't gonna come. But then here she is, walking down the bottom of the stairs, dressed in a simple t-shirt and skirt. Casual, like how she always looked when she was younger.

"What's for lunch, bro?"

"Spaghetti."

"Mum joining us?"

"Nah, I made her a sandwich, but when I went to give it to her she was out cold."

"'Kay."

As we chow down, I keep stealing glances at my little sister. It has become routine that she would take half an hour of every morning before school to make herself up into the Barbie that I'm sure everybody at Onett High knows her as. I don't really see her at school, I generally steer clear of freshmen. I wonder if that's a mistake on my part.

Even though I understand the whole concept of trying to dress to fit in, I didn't think Tracy would be dragged into that this badly. She looks fine as she is, I'm sure she'd be considered beautiful by others' standards even without makeup.

"Hey, Trace?"

"Yep."

"What's with the sign hanging on your door?"

"What do you think, dimwit?"

Doesn't she ever take a vacation from insulting me whenever the opportunity presents itself?

"Just asking, don't get all pissed off at me."

"I'm not pissed at you."

I frown. "Then why d'you take that t-."

"_I'm not pissed at you, _all right? Calm down, you oversensitive wuss."

I sigh.

We eat in silence for a while. Hearing the sound of nothing but tinkling plates is bothering me for some reason.

"Trace?"

"What now?"

"You wanna dig ourselves outside later on? Build a snowman or something?"

She looks at me like I'm insane. "Build a snowman? What're we, 5?"

"Hey listen, it's just that we haven't spent a lotta time together lately, and I really don't wanna-."

"Wow, you're a bigger pussy than I thought." She sneers. "Grow up, Ness. Entertain yourself. Play your video games, jack off, whatever."

I would if I could find my goddamn X-Rated Mags.

"What the hell do you even do all day anyways? Locked in your room not answering to anyone but your cellphone?" I'm losing my patience, and I'm not the kind of person who hides what he's feeling well with his voice.

"Why do you care?" She fires back. "Why's my life of such sudden interest to you?"

"I'm just worried that maybe high school's becoming too negative of an influence on you-."

"Bro, listen. I mean this in the nicest way possible, okay?" She says in a patronizing tone. "Mind. Ya own. Business. Thanks for lunch." With that, she throws her empty plate in the sink and goes back upstairs.

Guess what I will be doing for the rest of the day? Not minding my own business.

As I climb back upstairs, I make sure my footsteps are a bit louder than usual. I walk to my room, open the door, then audibly close it without going inside.

Hopefully that will convince Tracy to let her guard down.

I wait a few minutes, then tiptoe over to Tracy's closed door, and slowly turn the knob.

She didn't lock it.

Thank god for that, 'cause I had no other plan to see what she was doing in there short of climbing up to her window.

I slowly push the door open, just enough for my head to poke through, hoping she's not staring at her door for some reason.

Good, she isn't. She is lying belly down on her frilly bed, reading… some… magazine…

Wait.

No way.

Those are my missing X-Rated Magazines. My missing porn.

What the hell is my sister doing looking at naked… chicks…

…Oh.

Right.

I think I may be getting to the point where I _have_ to cross that bridge now…

As I try to stretch my head for a better look, I make the mistake of leaning too much of my weight on the door handle, and the door flies open and hits the wall with a bang. More importantly, my face also hits the carpet with a thud.

"NESS! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING IN HERE?!"

…I think I may have been caught.

"GET OUT OF MY ROOM!" A thrown pillow smacks against my forehead.

I scramble up, but make no intention of leaving her room.

"Trace, what're you doing with my porn mags?"

"Th… That's none of your business! Now get out!" Her face looks flushed.

"Actually, they're my magazines, it kinda _is _my business."

"Augh! You're… you're… I can't believe you barged into my room like that! Why did I put that sign there if I knew you were just gonna invade my privacy anyways?"

She's really trying hard to cover herself behind anger.

"Trace, answer the question." I request calmly.

"I don't have to answer shit! Get the hell out of my room you bastard!" She jumps off her bed and runs over, pushing me towards the door.

But I hold my ground. Would kinda be embarrassing if I would be so easily pushed around by my little sister.

"How did you find them?" I continue to pry.

"Stop turning this on me!" She screams, leaning all her weight on me to try to get me to move. "You walked into my room without permission! Get out! Get out get out get out!"

"Trace…"

"Why… won't… you… leave!" She begins beating her fists against my chest. Hard. I look at her face. She's so desperately mad...

"Trace…"

"Just shut up and get the FUCK OUT!"

I hear her voice crack a little. I inwardly sigh.

No good will come in trying to avoid the subject any longer.

I grab her arm firmly to stop her from punching, and don't let go when she tries to pry herself away.

"Tracy, is there something you should be telling us?" I keep my voice level, because I can somewhat understand the swirl of teenage idiocy going on in her inexperienced head right now.

"No! No there isn't! I was just curious, okay? I just wanted to know what's in these magazines that's got you so hooked on them you depraved sadist!"

She's getting really colourful with her insults.

"Tracy, I had been missing those magazines since August, for almost 5 months now."

"S-so?"

"So you've been curious for 5 months straight now?"

"I… I…"

Why is she trying so hard to fight me? God, we used to get along so well.

I put a hand on her head and brush some hair out of her face. She looks just about ready to let the floodgates open.

I wait until I feel her relax before letting go of her hand and leading her to sit with me at the edge of her bed.

For a while we just sit in silence and stare at our snow smothered backyard.

"How long?" Trace asks quietly.

"You remember that time I took you to Twoson's Department Store?" I say, looking out into the distance. "Remember when we went into that new clothing store with all those hot customer service chicks?"

I'll admit it, I went solely to sightsee, not to shop. Though I didn't suspect my sister would enjoy the view as much as I did.

Tracy droops her head as she recalls back to that time. Yeah, she must've realized how blatant she was acting.

"So, yeah. I saw you staring at the fine ladies more than you were at the merchandise, then I related that to how you never seemed to go on spiels about how cute the latest boy band is like every other 13 year old girl… and yeah. My suspicions started out from there. 'course, didn't help that you stared at my girlfriend while drooling when you first met…"

More awkward silence. But at least we are getting somewhere, I hope.

I venture out a question. "When d'you think you… y'know…" Wow, I am like the vocabulary master.

She lets out a long, heavy breath, eyes set on the carpet. "Not sure, really. I guess I've always realized I wasn't as fanatically into cute boys as my friends were, and for some reason I guess I…" She swallows. "I… I always found the female body more appealing, 's all."

That's my lil' sister. Working up the courage to admit it by yourself in front of someone else for the first time.

Now for the hard part…

"Why did you keep it under wraps, from even your family?" I look at her as sternly as a 16 year old guy like me can manage to.

She glares at me back, with an almost angry expression. "That's a stupid question."

"You're right, it is." I nod.

Silence.

"And so? If you know it's a stupid question, why are you still asking me?"

"I wanna hear your answer."

"You already know the answer!" She shouts.

"Tell me anyways."

"There's no point if you already know!"

"Tracy. Tell me your answer." I am not backing down. I know how hard it must be for her, and that's precisely why I'm pressuring her like this.

"…because…" She stares back at the carpet.

"…yeah?"

"…because…"

"Say it."

"BECAUSE I'M AFRAID YOU WOULD BE ASHAMED OF ME OKAY!?" She yells. "Because I'm afraid you and mom would think I'm some abnormal freak, and I can't tell any of my friend either because I'm afraid that they might make fun of me and tell the whole school and then my life would be ruined, and then I'd be all alone 'cause you wouldn't love me anymore at home and I'd be an outcast at school and I'd have to run away from home and… and…"

I wrap an arm around her and pull her tight against me. She sounds like she has a bad case of hiccups.

When was the last time I hugged my own sister? Isn't it sad that I don't remember?

I wait for her to relax a bit before continuing.

"Tracy, do you know what a cliché is?"

"…a what?"

"A cliché is something that's been seen or used so often that it's lost its shock value." I explain. See? English class is doing me some good. Some.

She looks at me, eyes narrowed. "What are you getting at?"

"You remember that game, SpaceBound? Where the kid had weird psychic powers, but his parents still loved him, despite it? Or how about that show, FutureDrama, where the girl found out her parents were mutants, but didn't care because she still loved them? Or countless other shitty movies where the kid makes some bad decision, but the parents still support them nonetheless?"

Tracy sniffs, not answering.

"Well, they all carried the same, cliché as fuck message about how familial love triumphs over all. But you know what?" I pull her closer, feeling her warm body against mine. "They're only clichés because the message they carry is so effective.

"Trace, if mom could talk through her snot filled sinuses right now, she be saying the same thing I'm telling you right now. We don't care what you're into. We will love you no matter what."

God, I'm gonna go wash my mouth after this. Get that strong, cheesy taste out.

I feel her body shake a bit. Oh god she's… she's

Snickering…?

"God Ness! I can't believe you said something so ridiculously gay like that!" She laughs out loud. "Watch what you say next time, I don't think mom can deal with having two homosexual kids!"

I'm at a loss for rebuttals, so I settle for laughing along with her. For a moment, it feels like we have recovered some of our childhood bonds that adolescence had since whittled away slowly.

"But seriously Trace, even though we're super cool with this and all, I'm not too sure about high school." I advise. "So keep it covered for now, because high school in real life usually doesn't work like it does in movies, where everyone's doing choreographed singing and dancing and being all accepting of everything and shit."

She nods. "Thanks for telling me that. Just before I was gonna announce it over the PA, too."

I chuckle at that.

Something I realize just now is that even though she was on the edge of it, Tracy never let out a single tear throughout that whole, tough conversation. Put that together with her pretty hard punches (my chest still hurts a little) I'm proud to say she's tougher than some of the guys I'm friends with in school. She's a helluva girl.

I let out a long yawn.

Tracy copies me shortly after.

"Get any sleep last night? Or were you too busy, y'know…" I nod suggestively at my X-Rated's, which had wound up on the floor somehow.

Tracy socks me on the shoulder. "Yeah, and what about you? Still getting nightmares, you bed wetting pussy?"

Okay, she wins that round for sure.

"Wanna take a nap with me?" I offer.

"Sounds good."

So I pull down the window shades, and we crawl under Tracy's frilly purple full sized covers. I know that the nightmares would never come when I'm not alone, so I'm looking forward to making up some rest that I lose all too frequently during the night.

"Hey bro?"

I roll around. "Yeah?"

"Even though you are the most worthless, idiotic, brain dead, jock diseased, baseball incompetent wuss I've ever got to know," She scoots close and snuggles against me. "I'm glad you're my brother."

Now who's being cliché? Though that baseball comment hit home harder than I expected. But I smile nonetheless and put an arm over her. I close my eyes.

"Any time, sis. Any time."


	7. The kid everyone loves to hate

My mind is at a conundrum.

On one hand, I admire the fact that somebody in our lazy town rolled up their sleeves and actually shovelled a walkway to our high school from our neighbourhood. That must've taken some real damn hard work and dedication, it's not easy chiselling away a metre and a half thick blanket of snow, especially for a whole 3 kilometres from my home to Onett High.

I'm so moved.

On the other hand, I have to go to school again.

I'm so pissed.

Oh well, despite the bitching you expect from everybody, I'm willing to bet most of them are like me, that is, whine about school out loud, but look forward to hanging out with friends and sometimes even the classes, secretly.

So Trace and I bundle up in our winter clothing that for some reason we owned, and step outside.

Waiting for us are Ninten and Paula, like we had planned.

Okay, status update on Ninten. Since their breakup a few months ago, Ninten and Ana are not completely pretending the other doesn't exist, but the times when they are together with us are still a bit on the awkward side. They claim they're on good terms, but none of us are convinced.

Ninten's cooled down from that day when he almost hospitalized that kid, but I can't help feeling that he recovered… too spectacularly? If you get what I mean? Like he's trying to shake off any notion we have that the breakup has affected his personality.

Personally, I'm still a bit worried about the after-effects of the breakup on Ninten. There are definitely subtle differences in his conduct since then. But I don't put too much thought into it, if he says he's fine, I trust that he'll be fine.

Meanwhile Paula has loaned herself to Ninten's company, acting like a bridge, almost, between the space that Ana and Ninten created. The things that the old couple used to talk to with their loved are now shared with a neutral and completely trusted arbiter, namely my girlfriend, to help them get used to not having each other.

I don't mind.

Much.

Here's a testament to Ninten's character, though. Presently I walk up to Paula and give her a long kiss, right in front of him, and he doesn't even bat an eye.

When Ninten promised that his breakup wouldn't affect the way he acted around Paula and I, he kept his word. We never felt the need to be on our tiptoes when Ninten was around, and he never displayed any contempt or envy towards us as an item.

I don't care what anyone says, that's an impressive feat. I've always said Ninten's the most mature one in our high school.

"Wow, take it easy guys, if you go at it any more your tongues might freeze together."

…most of the time.

When we break apart, Paula spots my sister and gives a large smile.

"Hey, sweetie, it's good to see you again!" Then she gives Trace a friendly hug.

By the look on my sister's red face though, she's enjoying it too way much. I snicker, and Tracy sticks her tongue out at me.

We head off, but barely walk 6 steps when we hear Pokey's annoying voice yelling at us from his window.

"NESS! WAIT FOR ME!"

Ninten scoffs, Paula does her best to completely ignore him, Tracy makes a silly face at him, and I am not doing a good job holding back laughter.

"Sure, if you can get to us, we'll walk together!" I call back.

Don't worry, I haven't gone crazy.

Ever since one Aloysius Minch tried to sue a 7 year old kid for stepping on his front lawn because his soccer ball landed on there, nobody is gonna be willing to shovel out the snow to the Minch residence's front door. And since the Minches have as much drive to do physical labour as a squirrel has to jump into a piranha pool, they are effectively trapped in their home until the snow melts.

That leaves Pokey the option of swimming through 1.5 metres of snow to get to us.

Actually, not even that, 'cause I don't think he ever learned to swim.

"OKAY, THAT'S NO PROBLEM FOR ME! JUST… LET ME…" He moves back and forth around his window, scrambling to find a solution to his little problem.

We get bored and leave when he begins throwing surfboards out onto the snow.

With Paula linked on my arm, walking huddled next to me, and Ninten and Tracy chatting behind us, no doubt exchanging clever insults about me, we leisurely trek the 30 or so minute walk to Onett High, surrounded by the beautiful scenery the snow had painted on our town.

I smile happily. Despite a rather bumpy start to the year, life is turning out real good…

-01210-

What was I expecting after I finished lunch?

Well, I was expecting another boring ass Art lesson, the most of which I'm probably gonna spend texting my buddies.

What I was not expecting was Fuel to be standing outside the Art class door, deadlocked with the blond kid who I realize is my desk neighbour.

Lucas, that's his name. Hey I remember.

I was gonna go up to greet Fuel, but I hesitate. There's something off about how intensely they are staring each other down…

I also notice a notebook and some scattered homework sheets on the ground at their feet. And since Fuel would never carry that much school related stuff around, they probably belong to Lucas.

I add one to one in my head, but the result still confuses me… and not because I'm bad at math. Fuel was never the bullying kind of person. Plus, this just seems classless and childish to pull off, knocking someone's binder on the ground. Wonder what's got him so worked up.

Movement. That Lucas kid relents his stare, and bends down to pick up his stuff.

But then, in what I think is a pretty dickish move even though I have no idea what's going on, Fuel kicks the notebook away and out of Lucas's reach. What the fuck? Why's he acting like such a prick?

And just when I'm thinking the situation cannot turn more unexpected, the Lucas kid immediately stands up straight and lands a very hard punch on Fuel's face.

Holy shit he just punched Fuel.

And by the way my brunet buddy staggers and almost _collapses to the ground,_ that was a damn solid punch, since there is not much that Fuel cannot take standing.

I'm about to step in to aid Fuel, but then I see the fire burning in his eyes, and stop myself again. Fuel would be the last person to appreciate help during a fight, he takes things into his own balled up hands. Lucas's family better get started on funeral preparations.

Still, blondie amazingly shows no fear as Fuel charges at him. Their faces are both mad as hell, teeth bared, as they grab each other's shirts and prepare to go all out…

But then, "Hey! What on earth is going on?"

There's our art teacher. She's not looking too pleased that a fight is about to break out in front of her sanctuary. Both of them freeze.

"You two, let go of other before I send you both to the principal."

Fuel reluctantly does so. He roughly pushes blondie away from him.

"You," Ms. Art teacher points at Fuel. "Get to your class before I think of a punishment. You," She points at Lucas. "Get inside. Don't ever start fights near my class again."

Both parties oblige.

And just like that, the situation is completely defused. Pretty impressive, Ms. Art teacher.

Even though I much prefer to watch a fight. It's always entertaining to sideline when Fuel starts swinging fists, he always gets so passionate when he's serious.

I gotta remember to ask him what that whole scene was about. There is definitely more to it than a spat between two students. Besides, that Lucas kid doesn't seem like the kind of guy who goes around pissing people off.

…wait, what am I talking about? He's totally that kind of person. I still never got my revenge for the quick one he pulled on me the first day.

I follow them into the classroom and take my seat beside him. He's acting the same as usual, though. Dead silent, doodling his name on paper, not acknowledging my presence. I glance over to take a look.

'2L 4U 1C 3A 5S'

…yeah. Sure. Why not.

Class starts, and I begin my usual routine of leaning back on my chair and sending random texts to Paula, not really hearing the ramblings of Ms. Art teacher.

Until I pick up something about a culminating assignment.

…fine, I'll pay attention. Because I still do somewhat care about my grades, since my original plan of getting a baseball sports scholarship into university isn't going as planned.

And honestly, I'm pretty proud of my marks right now, despite all the dimwit comments Tracy makes. An 82 average for my classes. I'll give 5 percent of that credited to Jeff, since his 'help' with schoolwork is a nice boost.

Hell, I'm even getting 76 in Art, which surprises me considering how little work I actually do here. Told ya, easy as hell elective to pass.

Now, what's the teacher saying?

"The culminating assignment will be completed with a partner. It will be worth 25% of your final grade. Now, up until this point, I have been extremely lenient with marking your work, hence the class average of 91, but I will be strict with my grading procedure on this assignment, so don't expect that you'll be able to muddle through with some sloppily painted picture."

She glared straight at me when she said that. I'm still in shock that apparently I'm 15 points below class average.

"The subject of your project, however, will be lenient. I will give you one 'word', and you shall express that 'word' in the most creative and interesting way possible. You will present your piece a week after when we come back from winter break, so do not procrastinate."

Figures she would find some way to ruin winter break.

"Now then, pick your partners, and come up to get your subject 'word' and marking rubric."

An immediate flurry of chairs being pushed back, as every chick in the class stands up and comes running straight towards me.

Oh shit. Can't believe their obsession with me hasn't stopped since the beginning of the year. And now, I'm gonna be forced to choose one of them to be my partner. How will I know which one to pick? How am I gonna let down the rest easily? Is Paula gonna be jealous that I will be doing a project, therefore spending a lot of time, with another chick?

Oh god, here they come…

"Lucas! Be my partner!"

"No Lucas, be mine! My art is soooo much better than hers!"

"Lucas over here! I promise I won't slow you down!"

…Well fuck me.

I totally forgot my blond desk neighbour is the Art buff of this class. I remember overhearing him and the teacher discussing his course grade of 110 or something. Admittedly it is well deserved though, since the stuff he draws are pretty fantastic.

So now I'm staring stupidly at Lucas, who's looking flustered as hell with every crazy chick in the class surrounding him. The Goths are rolling their eyes and muttering something about 'conformists'.

"Hey! Ladies, calm down!" Ms. Art teacher booms, and the girls turn around to look at her. "I'm going to make an exception to the pick your own partners rule for Mr. Lucas here, so please pair yourselves up with someone else!"

The disappointed looks on their faces are almost hilarious as they trudge back to their desks.

"Now then. Lucas, you will be paired up with Ness this project."

…what.

What.

I spin my head around, frowning at him.

He looks back with eyebrows raised. Almost looking amused.

Damn.

It.

Why am I always the one who steps in bullshit?

I watch as each partnered pair goes up to get their stuff for the culminating project, chatting excitedly about what they will do for their piece. I doubt I'll share their excitement.

When it's our turn, I reluctantly stand up and walk with my prison mate up to the teacher.

She gives us our rubrics and a word written on a piece of construction paper.

'Apple'

So our subject is 'apple'. What the fuck are we gonna do with this? Bake a pie?

"Ma'am, why do I have to be partnered with him?" I ask in a not so nice tone.

"Because, Mr. Ness, you can benefit greatly from Mr. Lucas's talents. Not mentioning the fact that despite sitting together for 4 months now, you've yet to utter a single word to each other." She says crisply.

"You said we pick our own partners." I counter.

"Well, I'm the teacher, so I can do whatever I see fit." She rebuts. "Besides, I do not see why you are so displeased with Mr. Lucas's presence."

"Because… because…" I sigh. I'm not sure how to answer that, really. Why don't I like blondie? Is it because of the sour impression he left on me after that first day? Is it because I'm popular while he's just some loner nobody? Is it because of how silent, how unresponsive he is towards me? Why am I asking you so many questions?

"Okay, fine. What about our subject word then? Apple? What, are we supposed to do our project on the health benefits of fruits and vegetables or something?"

"If you can make that an effective piece, then by all means. Don't worry, I'm sure you'll do _berry_ well."

I wanna kill myself.

Turning around, I see my partner with his arms folded, smiling faintly at me. God he pisses me off.

"What are you smirking at, you dork?" I growl.

"Hey now, that's what I'm talking about." Ms. Art teacher interjects. "You need to get rid of that negative attitude towards your partner. If you work civilly, you will accomplish _grape _things."

"But he's being a prick!" I fume. "How am I supposed to be civil towards him?"

"Hey, I don't carrot all what you have to do, but I know that if you keep up this cynical attitude, you will squash your chances at a good mark."

"Fine. Whatever." I turn around and start walking back to my desk.

"Mr. Ness, look on the bright side of things." Teacher calls out. "Orange you glad to have such a skilled artist with you? Chive got a good feeling about what you'll create together!"

"Okay! Fine!" I say desperately. "Now can you lettuce leaf?"

She gives me one last glare, then nods, muttering something about the school not paying her enough of a celery to deal with kids these days.

Plopping down at my desk, I stare at the complex rubric for the project. Shit, looks like I'm gonna have to do a lot of work on this culminating activity whether I want to or not.

I pass the rubric sheet to Lucas, who takes it and scans through it. I am not looking forward to how much of him I'm gonna be seeing for the next few weeks.

"Man, why did I have to be partnered with you of all people?" I whine out loud.

Blondie looks at me, and I hear him speak for the first time, like, ever.

"Grow a pear, Ness."


	8. Add some fire to Fuel

"Fuel."

"Yo."

"You alright man?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

"'Cause you're coughing up blood." I point out the red soaked tissue he's holding against his face.

Fuel glares at me, but I just grin back.

"C'mon, tell us what happened." Even though I know already.

"It's nothing."

"Then why are you menstruating out of your mouth?" Ninten asks from where he's leaning coolly against the lockers.

Fuel sighs. "I bit my tongue, okay? Now drop it guys."

I raise my eyebrows. Fuel is the most half assed liar ever. "You bit your tongue?"

"Yes."

"You bit. Your tongue."

"Yes! Why is that so hard to believe?"

"16 year olds don't bite their tongues for no reason." Ninten says, folding his arms. "Tell us what really happened."

"…fine. I got into a scrap, 'kay?"

Ninten's interest immediately perks up, as he stands up straight. I can't really tell if he's worried about Fuel or just excited to hear details about a fight. "With who? And where?"

"Some dumbass, near some classroom." Fuel answers vaguely.

"With a kid called Lucas, near my Art class." I pipe up.

A surprised look, then a realizing look, then a pissed off look, in that order.

"Should've known it would be _your _little pussy Art classroom." He mutters. "How come I didn't see you then?"

"Prolly 'cause you were too busy getting your face beat in by blondie." I answer snidely, unable to hide the smug expression on my face as I see Ninten's eyes widen. God I'm such a bad person.

And judging by the 'shut up before I tear out your trachea' look Fuel's sending me, he agrees.

"Wait a sec." Ninten closes his eyes, shaking his head. "Fuel. You let yourself get punched? Hard enough to bleed out of your mouth?"

Fuel growls in frustration. He throws the bloody tissue into a garbage can, and forcefully spits the remaining blood in his mouth onto the floor. A few passing freshmen catches sight of that and run away huddled together.

Ninten and I both know Fuel prides himself as the kind of man who takes bullet wounds, then pulls out the bullet himself and throws it back at the shooter twice as fast as it was shot. Getting hit hard enough to draw blood must be really discomposing and upsetting for Fuel.

Now that I think about it, I'm a dick for teasing him for getting _punched._

"Hey man, I'm sure it was just a lucky hit, he caught you off guard, 's all." I reassure. Fuel nods, but doesn't look convinced himself.

A warning bell rings, and we begin walking off to Gym together.

"Wait, so what does this Lucas dude look like?" Ninten asks. "Like, is he some big guy who goes around picking fights or something?"

I wait for Fuel to answer, but he seems happy to just stare intensely at the floor.

"Not really. Lucas's just some skinny blond art nerd who needs a haircut." I decided to go with the truth, not exaggerate what Lucas actually looks like to preserve Fuel's pride.

"Skinny blond kid?" Ninten repeats.

"Yeah."

"With hair sticking up in the front? Carrying a sketchpad and a binder?"

Okay, that's a bit too specific. "How d'you know?"

Then I realize both Ninten and Fuel have stopped walking, and are both staring down an adjacent hallway. I turn to look.

Fuck, there he is, staring back at us with creased eyebrows as he slams his locker shut.

A low growl emits from Fuel's throat, and I can see him clench his fists so hard that they're turning white. Ninten and I exchange a worried look.

"What, you think you're some hot shit just 'cause you got one punch off on me? Is that it?" Fuel yells loudly, drawing the attention of every student nearby, who all fall silent and clear out of his way as he advances on blondie.

And again, my project partner defies all basic logic by showing no sign that he's gonna back down.

…My project partner…

Well, damn.

"Dude, Fuel, stop!" I call out.

He glares angrily at me. "What's your problem?"

"Umm, yeah, so here's the thing," I start coyly, rubbing the back of my head. "As much as I would love to see you beat up blondie here, I… kinda need him in one piece right now."

In the corner of my eye, I see blondie giving me a frown, as if to say 'is that supposed to be reassuring?'

"You're kidding." Fuel says, monotone.

"Wish I was." I reply.

"What the fuck dude?"

"Kinda…erm… got roped with him for an important Art Project."

"I can't believe it." Fuel throws his arms up in the air. He jams a thumb towards blondie, who hasn't moved from his spot. "You _saw_ this fucker land a punch on me. And now you're telling me to just let it go?"

"Well, I'm not saying that, just… like… wait until we finish our project first, before you two… erm… resolve your issues?"

I'm being careful with my words because if I come off as too much of an antagonist towards my project partner, it may tempt him to screw us over on our assignment. As much as it pains me to admit it, I probably will need the guy's help to do well.

Wow, it feels like I'm being blackmailed by blondie. Did I perhaps mention I'm not too fond of him?

"Wipe that smug look off your face, you dork!" Fuel suddenly shouts. I look over, and while blondie isn't exactly making a smug face, I can kind of understand why that expressionless, bland look might piss some people off.

There's no immediate response. Me, Ninten, and every other student silently spectate the heated staring contest being held between blondie and Fuel. I wonder if anyone else notices the teacher approaching our hallway on the far end…

And then, blondie speaks in a very quiet voice that is nonetheless heard loud and clear by everybody.

"Grow up, Fuel."

Oh great. I am so gonna fail Art.

There is a flurry of movement, as Fuel sprints towards his target, but is forcefully restrained by Ninten, who in a split second has his arms wrapped around him.

"Fuel! Chill! It's not worth getting into shit over him, 'kay?!" Ninten yells, straining to keep my brunet buddy in place.

"Lemme at him… he's so dead…"

I step in front of Fuel, blocking blondie from his line of sight. "C'mon, bud. You'll have your chance at him later, I promise." I say quietly as I put my hands on his stiff shoulders. "Just not now, alright?"

I gesture my head to behind me, where I'm sure the teacher is approaching to vulture on a chance to punish someone. Fuel flicks his eyes past me, and with one final shaky breath, I feel him un-tense.

"What's going on over here, boys?"

"Nothing, Ma'am, we're on our way to class now." Ninten says coolly, unlatching his arms from Fuel.

The old hag surveys him, but Ninten doesn't give anything for her to work off of.

"Hurry it up, the bell's going to ring soon." The teacher warns, and she enters an adjacent classroom right beside us.

Thank god for Ninten's maturity, therefore being more trustworthy in the teacher's eyes. If that was me, the old hag wouldn't've believed me for a second.

"Damn bastard…" Fuel mutters, still staring with an unsatisfied notion at blondie.

"C'mon, let's go." Ninten puts an arm around him, and turns him away from the scene.

Sensing the worst of it is over, the students disperse, some looking disappointed that a fight didn't break out to entertain their retarded minds.

"…sorry." I mutter to Fuel, feeling partially responsible for his discontent.

"Yeah, whatever." He turns to me, and actually manages a weak smile. "Your project better be the best damn art piece since Mona Risa, I'm holding off breaking his arms until then, just for you Ness."

I smile back. It's just like Fuel to somehow be touching and morbid at the same time.

"Hey, you guys go ahead to Gym, I'll catch up later." I say, remaining where I'm standing.

Ninten silently nods, and Fuel pauses in his step, but waves back. They both walk off.

I wait until they're out of sight, then turn around to go back down the hallway. I have my sights set on blondie, who's opened his locker again, putting books back in.

"Hey." I say, keeping my tone even.

He gently closes his locker and turns towards me, and I decide to get a good look at the loser I'm gonna be stuck with over winter break for the dumb project.

Immediately I get slightly irritated at that he's a bit taller than me, but that may just be the hair. I had thought he used gel to keep it up in that ducktail shape, but the yellow hair doesn't have the sheen and glossy look that using gel creates. He's wearing a grey hoodie over a yellow and red striped shirt, and blue shorts that hang over his knees.

So to summarize, my project partner is an average looking prick who has physics defying hair and a knack for pissing people off it seems. Great.

Blondie tilts his head, frowning silently at me.

"Tell me what's going on between you and Fuel." I say, remembering back to earlier today. Fuel does not start fights without reason, and the way these two glare at each other make me think I'm missing something.

Blondie heaves out a sigh, like he was fully expecting me to ask that. But he doesn't say anything else.

"Well?"

He shakes his head, lips pursed in a line.

"Listen to me." I growl. "Fuel's one of my best buddies. And I don't know what it is, but you're doing something to upset him, not to mention you actually punched him hard enough for him to bleed out of his mouth. By all logic I should be beating the tar out of you right now, but since we're stuck painting apples together for the next month, I'm letting you off easy. But if I find out you're doing something seriously wrong to bother Fuel, you're _fucked_. Got it?"

He's as non reactionary as ever. Why's it bothering me so much that I can't incite any satisfactory response from him? We stare each other down.

"…You must really care about him, Ness." He says quietly.

I'm a little surprised at the cowed tone he used.

"Yeah, well, that's what friends are supposed to do. Look out for each other." I reply curtly. "What, don't you have any friends worth caring about?"

"…not really, no."

Wow, he even admitted it. What a sad little kid.

"Y'know, maybe you'd have more buddies if you didn't spend so much time pissing people off with fights and bad drawings." I chide.

He scoffs, and turns away from me to leave.

"You still haven't answered my question." I say.

Blondie pauses.

"…if you really wanna know, go talk to Fuel about it. I'm not the one who has a problem with him."

He walks away, and I let him.

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. Somehow, I feel like trying to urge information out of an irritated Fuel will be harder than interrogating my project partner.

God, I really hope he's worth the trouble of keeping. Oh well, at least I'll learn how to draw really nice apples by the end of it all.

-01210-

"Babe, why're we stopping?" I ask.

"Ana's coming over to work on our Cooking Project." Paula says, looking over at the school's exits. "She's walking with us. You don't mind, do you Nessie?"

She gives me an all too innocent and disarming smile. I can only chuckle.

"Hey, what's better than having two gorgeous ladies accompanying me for the afternoon?"

"Aww, really?" She says, leaning against me. She feels so nice and warm in this cold winter weather. "I thought you were looking forward to some alone time between us."

I kiss her forehead, grinning like an idiot. "I was, trust me. But it's been a while since I've talked to Ana outside a crowd, and I kinda wanna see how she's making out."

"How she's making out, or how she's _at _making out?" Paula teased.

"Why not both?"

She slaps me playfully on the arm. "Just don't let Ninten hear you say that, I don't think he's as adjusted to not having Ana as he'd like us to believe."

"Yeah…"

Soon we spot the familiar figure of Ana walking over from the exits. One thing about her, and one of the more stupid reasons why I think her and Ninten are perfect together, is that Ana looks very similar to Paula. Sharing round, pretty faces with flowing blonde hair and slim but steady figures. Though Ana's presentation style is more stuck in the past, tying her hair in short braids with ribbons.

Another thing about her is that she's from a very strict Catholic family, which is why she is very proper and non-sweary, and kept Ninten from cursing back when they dated.

'Back when they dated'. God, that still feels weird to say.

"I haven't kept you waiting too long, have I?" Ana asks sweetly as she reaches us.

"Not at all." Paula replies.

"Yeah, I haven't frozen my ass off yet, so you're cool." I smile.

"Language, Ness." Ana scolds gently.

"Right, sorry."

We step off school property and towards Paula's home slash daycare centre. Yes, Paula's family runs a daycare centre. That in itself is an impressive feat in my eyes, since when it comes to kids I have the patience of a squirrel. But somehow, Paula manages to nurture all those mini demons to like and admire her. My girlfriend's like a Siren for kids. But without the, y'know, ship crashing part.

I get my foot stuck for the millionth time today in the deep snow. Wearing sports shoes during this weather, not the smartest decision I've ever made. With a nasty squelching sound, I pull out my foot.

"Goddamn it…" I mumble, feeling water soak in my socks.

"Language, Ness."

"My bad, Ana." I look over at her as she expertly waded through the snowy sidewalk. "How're you holding up so well in this shitty weather?"

"Language," She says softly, then replies with a smile, "My hometown's Snowman, remember Ness?"

"Of course he doesn't," Paula unhelpfully cuts in. "It took him half a year to remember my phone number when we first met. I never knew that 'I forgot your number' was an honest excuse for him."

I smirk. "And you thought I was being unfaithful."

"I'm sorry, but when I wait days and days for my boyfriend to call, and finally get tired of waiting and calls him, and he tells you that he _forgot _your number, it's not very believable."

"Hey, at least I got it down for sure now!" I hold my hands up in surrender. "It's 416, 263, 2311."

"That's not even right!" She slaps me on the shoulder hard, and I laugh.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I swear that was a joke!"

"I'm so breaking up with you." Paula huffs, but the smile would not stay hidden from her lips.

"Finally!" I fist pump. "Now I can go date that sexy chick from Physics."

"You will not!" She dashes towards me with raised fists, and I run away, guffawing like an idiot. I lead her through a thick snow bank, thinking it would stop her, but she plows right through it and tackles me, making me fall back onto the snow with her laying on top of my chest. Then she starts to pinch both my precious cheeks hard.

"Owwie! Okay, okay, I'm sorry!"

She lets go, and looks straight into me. God her blue eyes are so beautiful…

"Promise I'm the only one for you?" She whispers.

"The one and only. Even if I had a chance to date Venus, I'd refuse. As long as I still have you… promise you won't break up with me?" I press my forehead against hers.

"You idiot. What do you think?"

She lowers her lips onto mine, and I savour the taste of Paula working against my mouth, passionately kissing me, leading me further and further away from reality and into her wonderland. I wrap my arms around her body and press her flush against me, feeling warm and comfortable despite lying on a bed of freezing snow…

"Ahem."

That stops us both, and we turn to where Ana's been standing expectantly. Her face showed nothing out of the ordinary.

Admittedly, I'm kind of annoyed that she just sorta blatantly ruined the moment, but I hide it as best I can from my expression.

Paula scrambles off me, looking red in the face. I slowly get back up and follow her back to Ana.

"Sorry about that." Paula says, clearly meaning for both delaying our trip with shameless PDI, and for basically just rubbing our relationship in Ana's face. Ana, y'know, the other half of the breakup of the century that's still sending out aftershocks.

The rest of the walk to Paula's place becomes sufficiently awkward, despite the idle and rather forced chatter between us.

Entering through the front door, I'm reminded of why I always thought Paula's would be the best place to host parties. The place is damn massive, at least three times as wide as the surrounding homes. The rooms in the house are like mini banquet halls. Good thing the snow has kept most of the day care kiddies away, I'm not in an especially good mood to be dealing with screams about who gets the orange crayon.

This place would be perfect for a night of fun. So why don't we throw parties here? Well…

"Hey sweetie, welcome home! Oh, and hello to you to Ana, it's been such a long time! Oh… and, um… pleasant day to you as well, Ness… I suppose…"

"Afternoon, Mr. Polestar." You old fart, I finish in my head. The stuck up, still living in the 19th century man who is Paula's father is pretty much against anything teenagers would consider fun. And I'm almost certain he has a dartboard with my picture taped over it in his room.

At least Mrs. Polestar is a much more gracious host, bringing us some chips and soda as we head upstairs. Then the parents drive off to go grocery shopping, leaving a mansion to just the three of us.

"Let me just change, give me a second." Paula closes the door to her bedroom's bathroom, leaving me and Ana by ourselves…

Just sittin' there…

Alone…

Not speaking at all…

Man this is freaking awkward… when was the last time I felt so uncomfortable around one of my supposed friends?

Well in all fairness, Ana and I were never as close as, say, me and Ninten. We'd almost never be found alone with just the two of us, and any socializing between us happened in a group. But still, I didn't think it would become this cricket-chirpy when left to ourselves. I wonder if the breakup has pushed her away from me, the guy who's still in a loving relationship. Is Ana the jealous type? God I am fucking clueless.

"Ness?"

Good, she relieved me of the pressure of initiating conversation. "Hey, what's up?"

"Erm, nothing really, just…"

"…it's fine, say what you wanna say, I'm not one of those pussies who'd get offended by everything."

"Language."

"Right, my bad. So what're you gonna ask?" I press.

"…how do you and Paula stay so... carefree around each other?"

I blink. Is this a test? "Umm… what, erm… exactly do you mean by that?"

"I mean how do you…" She sighs. "How do act like such a content couple?"

I narrow my eyes. "It's not an act, Ana. We're genuinely happy when together."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to offend." She looks actually sorry too.

"It's fine, but why are you asking this?"

"I just feel that… some of the things you say to each other seem a bit too…"

"…aloof?" I supply helpfully.

Ana chuckles, shining a beautiful smile. Ninten has good taste. "One way to put it I suppose."

"It's just 'cause we know each other well enough to not be offended. For example. HEY PAULA!" I shout at the closed bathroom door.

"WHAT IS IT BABE?" Her muffled voice screams back.

"YOU KNOW YOU'RE A SPOILED LITTLE DADDY'S GIRL RIGHT?"

"WELL IT'S A GOOD THING MY BOYFRIEND'S A SISSY LITTLE MOMMY'S BOY WHO CRIES LIKE A BITCH WHEN HE DOESN'T SEE HER FOR 10 MINUTES, NOW ISN'T IT?"

"Language, Paula!" Ana shouts.

"SORRY ANN!"

"Yeah, so there you go." I say, smiling despite my hurt pride. "All the little side bickering that may seem insensitive isn't taken seriously, because we know how genuinely happy and thankful we are to be together."

Ana nods, directing her thoughtful stare to the ground.

I observe her. I really don't get it. Why is she asking me these questions? I thought she would know all about the feelings exchanged between a couple, considering she is in… _was_ in one of the most _real_ relationships I've seen. I don't need to be an amazing judge of character to know that the way Ninten and Ana smiled and looked at each other and kissed expressed nothing but a whole mess of true, sappy love.

Which rounds me back to _how the fuck did they break up?_

I decide to take a chance, because this isn't something good to have hanging over our heads.

"Ana, why exactly did you and Ninten split up?" I manage to grind out in a relatively normal voice.

She doesn't seem overly saddened when I asked it, nor angry at my insensitiveness. She just looks kind of… blank. Blank and silent.

"Please, Ann. It's not good to keep things bottled like this. Both you and Ninten are my good buds."

She lifts her head, staring into me. Then she reaches out a hand, brushing some of my hair out of my eyes. The way her fingers ghosts over my skin is kind of chilling.

"You really remind me of him, Ness." Ana says gently. "The black hair, the pretty face, the same caring, worrying personality. Though you express it in a more… dynamic way than him…"

Is... is she hitting on me?

The bathroom doorknob clicks, and immediately she withdraws her hand. We both spin our heads in time to see Paula step out, wearing her indoor drab, a T-shirt and short skirt.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, honeys." She beams. "Ness, you wanna use my computer while Ana and I do our project?"

"Actually Paula, I think I'll be heading home now, I'm not really feeling up to it." Ana says, standing up. "Maybe we can continue another time?"

Suffice to say that caught us both off guard. "S-sure, I guess." Paula says. "But… are you alright?"

"I'll be fine, thanks."

"Well, do you need a ride home or something?" I ask, immediately after realizing how stupid of an offer it is considering we have no car.

"It's okay, sweetie, thanks though. Text me later, Paula?"

"Sure thing. Good luck getting home then, I suppose…"

"Wait." I stop her as she reaches for the door. She looks back at me. "You didn't answer my question." I say as sternly as I can.

Ana sighs lightly. "Maybe you should ask Ninten that, Ness. I'm not the one who has a problem with him." She opens the door. "Goodbye."

That sounds annoyingly familiar. Guess that's one way to leave people thinking what the hell's up with you. We listen to her footsteps steadily descend down the stairs, and the front door opening.

At least I know Ana's still pining for Ninten, that much was made clear when she had that moment with me. Which again leads back to hopelessly wondering why they split. Maybe she's right, maybe Ninten is the source of the problem. But then again, it's _Ninten _for fucks sake, the guy you'd want holding your bungee cord when you go cliff diving. He's not the cause of problems, he's the all in one solution. And as indifferent as he tries to act around us, I know for sure the breakup is having negative effects on him as well. Oh fuck, I'm putting way too much thought into this…

I copy Ana's sigh, and turn around to face a rather displeased Paula looking accusingly at me with arms folded.

"What did you do, Ness?"

I blink, leaning back. "Why am I always being accused of shit?"

"So you're saying you _didn't _say anything that might've put off her mood?"

"…okay maybe I did."

Paula flicks my forehead. I respond with an exaggerated whine. "You're so tactless." She says. "What stupid things came out of your mouth this time?"

I shrug. "I asked her why she broke up with Ninten."

"Just like that? Really? You didn't even try to play it down a bit?"

"It's not my style to beat around the damn bush. Besides, I really want to know the reason behind it. Why just end a happy relationship like that?"

"Yeah, I know." Paula sits on the edge of her bed, and I join her. She pulls a big fluffy toy teddy bear towards her and hugs it. "I've been trying to urge some answers out of Ana too whenever I'm with her, not as straightforward and thoughtlessly as you, might I add, but she's been evading answering."

I sigh again, screwing around with the teddy bear's ears. "What a mess. And the way Ana's acting, I feel like this whole thing isn't going to slowly dissolve like I had hoped it would."

Paula leans her head on my shoulder. "As selfish as it sounds, I'm so glad what happened to them never happened to us."

"Amen."

"Speaking of which…" She begins tugging on the collar of my shirt with a scheming smile. I perk up. "I guess now that Ana's taken an unexpected leave, we can go back to our original plans for the afternoon."

I grin like a maniac. "What were said plans again? Kindly remind me, Ms. Polestar."

She puts the stuffed bear away, and pushes me slowly back on her soft bed. "You have such a shit memory, Nessie." She says lowly as she crawls over me…

…

…I'm not at liberty to discuss the details of what will happen next.

…

…Seriously. Get out.


	9. One of 'those' days

_T-minus: 07:12:35._

I brush the comb over my messy hair to straighten it out into the neat, bowl style I love. Nothing like an early morning shower to uplift my mood even further.

And boy am I in a damn good mood today.

I whistle to myself as I continue to groom in front of the bathroom mirror. I may be a guy, but that's no excuse to go out every morning looking like a Fourside hobo. Classy dudes gotta have cleaning standards too.

I hear the door open. Normally I would've yelled at whoever just came in without knocking to get the fuck out, and hope it's not mom, but today I allow it.

"…is that you whistling?"

"Yeah. How you like my rendition of Jingle Bells, Trace?"

"Is that what it was?" She says. "I thought it was a dude getting his intestines pulled out through his mouth."

Ugh. The image.

"That snarkiness will get you real far in life, sis."

"Whatevs, now put on a shirt and get out, it's my turn to use the bathroom." She tosses my striped shirt at my face and jams a thumb to the door.

"I'm not done with my hair yet." I say as I pull the shirt over my body.

"Polish a shit pile, it's still a shit pile. Now get out."

I merely grin and remain where I am. Tracy huffs and tries to push me out, and I relent, letting her shove me roughly out of the bathroom, pleading for mercy… heh, yeah right. I root myself in front of the vanity, barely acknowledging the weak shoves she's exerting, and continue to brush my hair in slow motion.

Finally she sighs in defeat. "Fine. Can you please hurry up, dear brother of mine? I would like to use the washroom, s'il te plaît."

I shake my head. "I only understand Dalaamese."

Tracy snorts. "Fine. Qin nin rang wo yong ce suo, xin ma?"

I blink, then turn to frown at her. She smiles widely back at me.

"That could've been an utter load of bullshit for all I know."

"NESS IF I HEAR YOU USE ANOTHER CURSE WORD IN THIS HOUSE, I WILL SELL THAT AUTOGRAPHED RED ROX CAP OF YOURS. NOW GET OUT AND LET YOUR SISTER USE THE WASHROOM."

Just my luck, I suppose. Though I guess from certain points of view (I give Tracy one last glare, which she returns with a deft smirk) it could be interpreted as karma.

I rush downstairs before mom can lecture me about language usage. I say a quick goodbye to our phone, and swing the car keys off the hanger. Thank god the snow's melted enough for me to reacquaint with my precious baby. Hope she's not too upset I've neglected her for a few weeks.

_T-minus: 07:01:22._

Oh, she's upset all right. Real upset. As in upset enough to _refuse to freaking run_.

I try again for the 874th time, turning the ignition. I hear the engine sputter, then fail to turn over.

God. Damn it.

Well, guess an exceptionally crappy winter and a few weeks buried under snow is what it takes to screw over my car. The more you know.

So now what? School starts in 15 minutes, and walking'll take me like 30.

I get out of the car and flip open my phone, dialing Paula, who I was supposed to pick up. Tracy appears beside me, asking what's going on, and I tell her.

"So the piece of junk's finally out of commission? 'Bout time." My sister says.

"Hey, that happens to be my precious baby you're insulting. Say sorry."

She looks at me with a thoroughly annoyed face. "You've lost it. And now we're gonna be late for school because your _baby_ is hospitalized."

"We won't be late, I'm calling Paula now… yeah, hello?" I hear the other side pick up, then my face drops. "Oh, erm, yes, hello Mr. Polestar…"

"_Where are you? You're supposed to pick up my daughter 4 minutes and 13 seconds from now! Goodness, it's a mystery what she sees in such a tardy boy like you…"_

I grit my teeth. "Yes, well sir, you see, my car is having mechanical difficulties, so I was wondering-."

"_Mechanical difficulties? What on earth do you mean? Is your car not up to standards? To think I've been letting my precious Paula risk her life riding in your grievous death trap for 4 months now-."_

"Mr. Polestar! Please, can you-."

"_Don't interrupt boy! Good gracious, unmannered and unpunctual, such an unruly low class child! I must try again to convince Paula out of this cancerous relationship…"_

"…"

"…_not only is being with you a hazard to her own safely, it tarnishes the Polestar name to think that a boy like you has even a remote chance of marrying into the family. How your own parents raised you is blatantly much too lenient…"_

"…"

"…_but my sweet Paula seems convinced that you are the perfect one for her! Even now I see subtle hints of your influence upon her personality… youth these days, so impressionable, so foolish…"_

"…"

"…_now then, what is it that you require?"_

"Mr. Polestar, due to unforeseen circumstances regarding the status of my car," I say in a slow, heavily repressed voice, "May I request Paula pick my sister and I up in her vehicle to go to school please?"

"_Fine, fine. Such utter foolishness… back in my days, a gentleman waiting on a lady's escort is unheard of… Alright, she will be there shortly. And let this be the last instance of your regrettable character, Mr. Ness."_

"Certainly, sir."

With a click, the phone cuts. I realize I'm clenching the car keys in my other hand so hard it's digging into my skin painfully.

"Wow, that old guy's an asshole." Tracy comments.

"You heard, huh?"

"He was practically yelling into the phone. I actually feel somewhat sorry for you, having to deal with him."

"Yeah, well, Paula's worth it." I say. "Still, I wonder how he'll react when we eventually tell him we've been boning every chance we get under his roof when he's not in the house."

Tracy laughs, and we high five. I feel myself cheering up again.

I will not let some old fart ruin my good mood.

_T-minus: 06:40:20._

"Why are you late for class, Ness?" Mr. ¾ Legs, aka my English teacher, asks.

"Because my damn car broke down, so I had to call my girlfriend to pick me up. But she drives so freaking slowly, and we needed to get to school fast to find a parking place, so I urged her to run a stop sign, and lo and behold the one time we break the law the goddamn stupid police pulls us over, and after a whole bunch o' blah-blah-blah from the idiot cop, we avoided a ticket, but couldn't find parking anymore, so we settled for one across the street, and had to take like 5 more minutes walking over here, so that's why."

The teacher raises an eyebrow.

I sigh. "Because I'm tardy."

He sneers triumphantly. "See to it that you're more punctual next time, Ness. Now sit down."

Are all adults assholes? Like, is that something they teach people who turn 21, how to be complete prudes to the younger generation? Or is there something in the coffee they like to drink so much?

I slump down onto my seat, noticing the sympathetic, yet dickish grin Fuel sends from beside me.

A few days back, I decided to take a chance and asked Fuel just what was up with him and that Lucas kid. To quote his answer: "That's not something I wanna talk about right now, and I know you're gonna ask again, so I'm telling you to stop. I respected your request to not beat up that stupid kid, so please stop rubbing it in by asking questions about us." Needless to say, I never pressed the issue, but now I can't help but be awfully curious.

Other than that, he hasn't changed at all. It's good to see he hasn't deviated from his usual quirkiness despite the whole getting-punched-in-the-face incident.

I should also probably stop assuming all my friends are emotionally unstable pussies.

_T-minus: 05:30:11._

"Alright class, we've got 2 minutes left, so would everyone please hand in their assignments." The English teacher demanded.

Don't worry, I got it covered. I turn to the desk neighbour to my right.

"Yo Jeff, you got my assignment ready, right bud?" I whisper.

"Oh, err, sorry Ness, I don't have it."

I stare. Man my ears must be sore from Mr. Polestar's yelling, 'cause I'm almost certain that Jeff just said he didn't have my assignment. Ha, yeah right. Jeff would never fail me.

But after a solid 15 seconds, the geek has still not procured the stack of papers that is my assignment that he _surely has finished for me, right?_

"Umm, Jeff? This grade's kinda important, so can you just, like, stop joking around and gimme the papers?" I grin uneasily.

"I apologize, Ness, but I simply did not have time to complete two essays over the last week." He says with a straight face, thick glasses leveling with me.

I turn to the front, where the rest of the class is lined up, dropping thick stacks of stapled paper into the to-be-marked bin. I'm starting to feel nervous sweat form on my neck.

I lean my head over to Jeff's desk, keeping an eye on the teacher in the front. "What the hell, man?" I hiss. "Dude, you promised me you'd finish it for me!"

"I nary made such promise. You just came up to me, asked me to do the assignment, gave me a pat on the back, and ran off before I could form an answer."

"…nary?" I repeat.

"It is a rather archaic term denoting-."

"Never mind that. C'mon Jeff, you can't just leave me hanging like this, I thought we were buds." I plead.

"I am aware," Jeff sighs. "But… sometimes, Ness, I feel like our mutual friendship is not as close as you claim. In fact, I have the slight suspicion that you, as well as your group of friends, may be taking advantage of me."

I slowly place a hand on Jeff's shoulder. "Jeff. I don't know what sort of hallucinogens you are taking, but you, as the resident genius of our town, of all people should know that would never be the case."

"Well, I am glad, but either way, I have acquainted myself with another, and I must say, he is most delightful company. I am quite enjoying myself alongside his presence. In fact, we stayed up all night yesterday finding the derivatives of randomly generated curves, quite a blast…"

…I'm pretty sure he's still speaking a known language.

"Gentlemen! Do you have your papers ready for grading?" Our teacher calls from his desk.

"Ah, yes sir, right here." Jeff reaches into his bag and fishes out a monstrously thick binder, which he hauls to and dumps on our teacher's desk.

Mr. ¾ Legs turns to me. "And yours, Mr. Ness?"

…fuck me. No getting out of this one.

"…I don't have it, sir." I say lamely.

The asshole shows another one of his sneers, like he was expecting that answer from me. "Mr. Ness, you could use a lesson on diligence, perseverance. You need to learn to work hard. Take Mr. Poo for example. English is not his native language, yet he currently holds the highest mark in this class."

Is he really? I turn to Kung Fu Poo, who stands and bows, his ponytail swinging over his shoulder.

"Thank you for your kind words, sensei."

How the fuck is this dude getting the highest grade? Freakin' Dalaamians and their study regime.

The bell rings to signal first period's end. I catch up to Jeff, who's picking up his Physics textbook from his locker.

"Jeff, that was not cool." I chastise, but in a nice kind of way. I can't exactly bring myself to sound threatening to the guy who has done half my homework for the past 4 months.

"I'm quite sorry, Ness, but perhaps this would be a great time for you to get into the habit of doing your own work?" Jeff says, hugging his binders and books in front of him.

"Well… I guess, but…" I sigh. All I really wanna do is muddle through school without really making an effort, while at the same time getting high enough grades to suspend my career prospects. But I'm not smart enough to just cut through the coursework without studying, so… damn, I guess I should start 'trying'.

"Well, can I at least call you for help next week when I need it with my English and Physics stuff, Jeff ol' buddy ol' friend ol' pal?" I put on my most convincing smile.

"Oh, erm, I would be happy to, but I have already made plans with Tony to go visit Winters, apparently he's quite interested in my father's research work, interest that none of you have ever shown, I might add."

I narrow my eyes. "Who's Tony?"

Turns out, Tony is the new acquaintance that Jeff has become oh so fond of, mainly because he 'thinks on the same cognitive plane as him'. And apparently, Jeff likes this Tony dude so much, that he no longer has any more time in the future to even _help _me study.

This is a really bittersweet feeling. It's clear Jeff is finally distancing himself from us and finding a friend who he can be happier with, and I'm more or less proud of him for that. But that means no more socially awkward nerd that can be easily talked into doing our work in our group. And I can't exactly bring myself to force Jeff to do our homework. Tracy may call me a jock, but at least I'm a progressive jock. Bullying is so 199X.

So to prove to Jeff and myself that I can get through alone, I pay the utmost attention in the following Physics class, taking good notes and actively trying to answer questions without help.

My verdict? Goddamn Physics is hard.

I hold my head in frustration, realizing just how much more of my own free time I have to spend in the future to make sure I don't fall behind, and just how much I've been taking Mr. Jeffrey Andonuts for granted.

_T-minus: 03:50:22._

I feel like I'm supposed to learn a lesson here, and that's if you work hard, and take time to become a better person, life will reward you.

So after Physics today, I went up to the teacher of my own free will, and asked for advice on how to understand the material better. Then with her help, I organized my notes and set myself up for some good, hard studying when I get home.

And how did life reward me?

I got to the cafeteria late, they ran out of food, and now I'm dragging myself to Art on an empty stomach.

Okay maybe that's not a completely fair way of looking at things. What can I say, so far the day has set me up for nothing but pessimism.

Trudging down the near empty hallway, I begin hearing echoes of familiar voices coming down the hall. I magnetize toward the voices, always eager to strike conversation with buddies.

As I get nearer and nearer, the voices become decipherable. One was the unmistakable low tenor of Ninten, and the other the soft but strong voice of… Ana?

I remember back when hearing Ninten and Ana's voices together alone was nothing out of the ordinary. But now… I pick up the pace, and their words become clearer and clearer. I don't like that I can detect urgency and pleading in Ninten's voice. What's going on…?

Turning one last corner, their voices immediately become crystal clear.

"…least you can do is tell me why!" Ninten shouts in a desperate voice.

"I… I can't, Ninten. I really can't bring myself to tell you." Comes Ana's soft, but equally distressed reply.

"No, don't give me that bullshit. Tell me now."

"Language, Nint-."

"I DON'T CARE IF I'M FUCKING SWEARING OR NOT!" Ninten roars. "All I know is that you're going back to Snowman without telling anybody, and without giving a damn good reason why!"

My face is probably losing colour. I stare bewilderedly at them, they don't even seem to notice me standing here yet.

"They why don't you give me a reason to stay!" Ana screams back, stomping her foot on the floor. "Tell me why I should stay in this miserable place with such miserable people like you! You only pretend to be this kind, calm person on the outside, while the true you is a short-fused fool who's completely lost his path! And what's worse is that I actually fell for that façade of yours and _dated _you!"

Ninten's gonna hit her, I know it. Look at him, he has his fists scrunched up, he's shaking with anger…

…But he doesn't. In fact he seems to be deflating a bit, shoulders slumping and head looking down. I guess the lack of a violent reaction from Ninten is softening Ana too, as her face transitions into an almost apologetic look.

And as for me? I feel dizzy, like quite literally, dizzy. I don't know how to take this… Ana's leaving, going back to her hometown, without telling anyone. She's leaving. She's leaving us.

She's leaving Ninten…

"Ann, please, don't leave." Ninten begs softly. There are cracks in his words. "We can work things out, I swear we can. Just… don't go…"

Ana lets out a long sigh. She raises a hand and touches Ninten's face. Ninten holds her hand there.

"I'm sorry babe, it's for the best. It really is."

She pulls her hand away, and turns to leave. Ninten doesn't move to stop her.

Why isn't the dumbass stopping her!?

"And what about us?" I shout, finally unable to hold my silence. They both snap their looks to me, eyes wide in shock. "You think that you can just leave all of us like this? You really think it's best for all of us for you to just disappear?!"

I feel this utterly uncomfortable pressure inside me, and all I wanna do is yell at my two idiot friends until it disappears. The look on their faces as they realize just how much of their _private _conversation I've heard just infuriates me even more.

"Am I the only one who can see how utterly stupid this whole thing is?" I shout, waving my hands. "The most perfect couple on the planet spontaneously breaks up, leaving their friends to deal with the awkward backlash, and now you're gonna make things worse by LEAVING!?"

Ana silently stares at me with an expressionless face. I fucking hate expressionless faces!

"Can't you two just stop this stupid drama and just GET BACK TOGETHER AGAIN!?" I yell hoarsely. "Back to when you were all happy and lovey-dovey and perfect and not all awkward around each other and… and…" I lose my voice.

Ninten suddenly looks away from me. Ana closes her eyes and sighs.

"Like, come on guys." I smile shakily. "Ana, there's nothing for you back in Snowman, just a big church and a bunch of old timers. You belong here, with us, your friends… with Ninten, your _boyfriend._"

Ana shakes her head. No, nonono don't you shake your head…

"I'm sorry Ness, but Ninten and I aren't the happy couple you want to believe we are." She says quietly but clearly.

"What?" I frown.

"And I'm going, and there's nothing you can say to change my mind." Ana finishes. She then offers a weak smile. "Goodbye, Ness."

Goodbye, Ness? That's how she's gonna end it? Oh, no way.

She turns her back to me and beings walking away again, and I chase after her.

"Ana. ANA STOP! ANA WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU-." I'm cut off and stopped mid stride by Ninten, who places himself in front of me with his back turned to his former girlfriend.

"What are you doing she's leaving!" I say frantically, trying to get around him.

"Let her." He says dully.

"Dude, that is your girl and future wife walking out the door and-."

"She's right, Ness."

I stop. "What?"

"We're not the happy couple you think we are." Ninten concludes.

"What the fuck do you mean by th-."

"C'mon, lemme treat you to some burgers, I can hear your stomach growling." He says suddenly, with an all too happy grin on his stupid face, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and leading me away from the hallway.

I don't get it. I really don't. One minute he's pleading with Ana not to leave, and the next he just lets her walk out the door without any objection. And now what I'm getting is that apparently they weren't happy as boyfriend and girlfriend. I hate not understanding people, especially my best friends. I thought I knew them, I really did.

But I let him lead me away, knowing there's no point questioning him further when he doesn't want to talk about it, and that he really needs time to think things through.

Hell, _I _need time to think things through.

We just lost Ana.

What now?

_T-minus: 02:35:11._

At this point I wonder if I should just abandon the countdown, this has just been such a crappy day. But then again, that's what'll make hitting 0 more gratifying, I guess.

"Ness."

I turn around, mildly surprised that Blondie's initiating conversation.

"Are you alright?" He asks me.

Okay now I'm really surprised.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Since when are you worried about how I am?" I ask back in an unrequited rude tone.

He shrugs. "You just seem more out of it than usual."

He's not wrong. I've been sitting in Art class thinking about Ana's back as she walked away from Ninten and I. I guess I must look really blank, just sitting there staring ahead, not doing or reacting to anything.

Though right now I'm raising an eyebrow at how Blondie apparently noticed this and is even asking questions about it. I didn't think he'd care.

"Stuff's on my mind." I answer vaguely, thinking of ways to avoid the next question he'll surely pose.

…or not. He just nods and turns back quietly to his drawing. I wonder if he sensed that I don't wanna talk about it. Or more likely, he doesn't give a damn. But then why did he ask if I was… fuck it, why am I even spending so much brainpower on this?

I glance at Blondie's drawing. It looks like a dragon or something, and inside he wrote some word, the first three letters of which are bolded black.

'**Ryu**ka'.

"It's my name."

I start a little, not expecting that. I look up to see him staring at me.

"What?"

"It's how my name's pronounced in Kyotonese." He says. "Y'know, that island country beside Dalaam."

"I know where Kyoto is, I'm not stupid." I snap, turning away. I have a small notion to keep listening, but I want to be stubborn and continue to act apathetic towards him. I already feel kinda embarrassed being caught looking at his drawings.

"When you translate 'Lucas' into Kyotonese, you get a word that's pronounced 'Ryuka'." He continues, apparently not caring if I'm interested or not. "'Ryu' means dragon in Kyoto, so that's where I got the inspiration to draw this."

"Yeah, okay, I don't care." I snap, then immediately regret it. I'm being such a jerk, jeez.

I hear him let out a long breath. "Fine. I was just trying to take your mind off whatever's bothering you." He mutters, then turns away from me.

I'm a bit bewildered. Not only did he notice something off with me, he made an attempt to pull me out of my moody well with light conversation. This is all coming after 4 months of complete silence, may I remind you. Is he trying to act nicer around me now that he's stuck as my project partner? Or is this just his character? Either way, I feel like I've missed something in that exchange.

_T-minus: 01:55:33._

Somebody should replace the batteries on that damn clock, I feel like it's going slower the more I stare at it. Art's almost over. Then only an hour or so left…

"Hey."

I turn around to find Mr. Dragonborn Blondie Lucas again trying to talk to me. I don't respond.

"We need to meet up to work on our project. Pick a time and place."

Ugh… I'm not in the mindset to think about that now…

"I don't really care, you decide." I mutter, leaning back in my seat and folding my arms.

"Okay, fine. I'll come over to your place Sunday morning. Where do you live?"

I narrow my eyes at him. "Excuse me?"

"Where do you live?"

It strikes me odd that of all the places to go, he picks my house first. "Why can't we go to the library?"

He looks at me strangely. "…the library's roof was damaged by the snow, it's closed for a few months while they repair it."

Was it really? Well guess it goes to show you how much I pay attention to the going-ons of my town. "Well, let's go to the community centre then."

"That's on the other side of Onett."

"_Fine then._ We'll go to your place." I say, annoyed.

"Most people wouldn't wanna deal with my useless, alcoholic, violence prone dad."

That catches me completely off guard. I study his face, but it shows nothing but the usual annoyingly plain look that I've come to identify him with.

"What was that?" I slowly ask.

"You heard me clearly the first time. My point is can I please come over to your place to do our project?"

I catch a little something in that last sentence. Stress? Anger?

Personally, I don't sit well with anybody insulting people's parents, including their own. Then again I guess not everyone can be lucky enough to have the mom and dad that I do. But still, they way he described his father seems a bit overly hostile…

Either way, I don't really want Blondie anywhere near my home, y'know, the place where my personal life exists. But he could put forth the same argument…

I sigh. "Fine." I rip out a piece of paper from my binder. I pause for a few seconds before scribbling an address and phone number on it, and hand it to him.

He takes it, looks it over, then gives me a smile that doesn't seem as annoying as his usual smirk.

"Thanks, Ness. I'll be over at 11 on Sunday, is that fine?"

"Yeah, yeah, whatevs." I wave him off, trying to sound neutral.

In my head I'm grinning like crazy though. The phone number I gave him is real, but the address is fake. It's around 3 kilos from school, but in the complete opposite direction of my house. Wish I can be there to see his face when he starts knocking on some stranger's door.

A little payback, if you will, for the first day shenanigans he did.

…is it healthy to dwell on that for so long? Oh well.

_T-minus: 01:30:30._

I found Paula after Art, and broke the news of Ana's abrupt goodbye.

First she didn't believe me, which was the reaction I expected. Then she got really angry at me for not trying harder to stop her, yelling and flailing her arms around. Then she hugged me and sobbed into my shirt.

Paula and Ana are practically sisters (conveniently looking alike as well). To say that Ana's unannounced departure really upset my girlfriend is quite the understatement. After all, you would not expect your best friend to suddenly leave without even letting you know. It's basically against best friend code.

So now I'm holding Paula as she sniffles and mutters harsh obscenities about Ana, whispering what I hope are comforting words to her.

Damn it Ana… see what you're doing…

_T-minus: 01:04:02._

We're having a badminton tournament of all things in Gym class.

I can't even imagine how this sport was invented. Like, did someone just one day decided to pick up a dead budgie from the ground and started hitting it around with a snowshoe or something?

The point is, I suck at badminton.

God I just want the day to be over.

_T-minus: 00:41:22._

You know who doesn't suck at badminton? Dalaamians.

Admittedly it's entertaining watching Poo jump around, smashing birdies all over the opposing court, utterly destroying all non-oriental competition.

Oh well. Let's see if he can keep this up during hockey.

_T-minus: 00:27:53._

I actually got pretty far in before being dominated by Kung Fu Poo.

I learned it's easier to hit a birdie with a racquet than a baseball with a bat.

_T-minus: 00:13:11._

We clap unenthusiastically for Poo as he bows for winning the official 11C Gym Badminton Tournament Trophy.

_T-minus: 00:07:46._

I can't wait to feel the elation and relief of stress that the end of the countdown will bring.

_T-minus: 00:04:38._

My gym clothes smell weird. I'll have to remember to throw 'em in the hamper when I get home.

_T-minus: 00:03:21._

I can see the door that I'll be rushing out of…

_T-minus: 00:02:00._

So close…

_T-minus: 00:01:55_

"Ness, I need to talk to you for a second please." The Gym teacher says.

What? There's only like a minute left!

I dash up to him, trying to not seem impatient. What does he need to talk to me about anyways?

"What is it sir?"

"Ness, as your Baseball coach, you know it's never easy to tell anyone on my team this…"

Quick detail I should've told you: Gym teacher's also my Baseball coach. And immediately I'm really not liking the way this conversation's headed.

"Especially not to you, because I can tell just how much you love the sport." Coach continues gruffly. "It's hard to find kids these days so passionate about anything, so having you around the team's a real pick-me-up for-."

"Sir, don't sugar-coat it. Just tell me what I need to hear." I interrupt. Because I can foresee what he's about to lay on me, and I can feel the pit forming in my stomach for the hundredth time today.

He sighs. "Always the direct one, ain't'cha? Alright Ness. Bottom line is that you either perform better or you're off the Meteors."

No… no it does not work like that. Ness does not get kicked off his baseball team. Ness loves the sport of baseball and Ness does not want to hear that _he sucks too much to stay on his school's shitty team!_

"B-but sir, I'm trying the best I can, I really am! Please don't take me off coach!"

"I don't want to, Ness." Coach says. "I know that you wanna stay on the team and Ninten and Fuel have been adamant about keeping you around… but you know that our school's team has been the joke of the division for a long time now. I want to build a team that can prove our worth this year, and that means that I have to cut players who aren't performing."

I open my mouth to argue, but nothing comes out. I stare up at my coach, silently pleading with him.

"You may know a lot about the sport Ness, hell I don't think even I can recount pro players' stats or technical percentages like you, but in the end all that matters is what you bring to the lineup, not the papers."

Suddenly the school's bells chime.

T-minus 0:00:00.

"Look at that, classes are over, it's winter break for you young'uns." Coach comments lightly. "Bet some of you were counting down every moment of the day to this like it was New Year's."

I say nothing.

"How 'bout this Ness, let's work out a proposition. I'll give you winter break to work on your batting. When you come back, we'll see how much you improved, and go from there! How's that sound?"

I manage a slight smile. "That's great… thanks sir."

_T-plus: 00:01:01._

I'm waiting for the feeling of happiness and relief that the bell signalling the start of winter break should've brought, but I know that it's not gonna come.

My car's broken, my girlfriend's dad is on edge with me, my homework assistant has left office, my grades are in danger of crashing, my best friend's girlfriend and my girlfriend's best friend just walked out, and my position on the baseball team's in heavy jeopardy.

I have all that to work out over my two week 'vacation'.

Life's really fucked me.

-21012-

Author's notes:

While the majority of this story's written out, I will not have time to edit them until after I reorganize myself for the upcoming University school year that's coming in WAAAAY too fast, so I am slowing down the updates for now. Hopefully when I come back, I will have more chapters for my other story (which my girlfriend is running through with me) ready as well.

A big thanks and warm hugs for everyone who's reading and reviewing!

(conditions for hugs apply, must be of legal age and living near -REDACTED-, Toronto, Ontario.)


	10. The alarm clock is smoking

I lie on my bed, staring idly at the white ceiling.

Guess what I did last night?

If your answer is 'sleep soundly and without nightmares', well, fuck you.

Aw man, my eyes are stinging from being open too long. I'm really getting literally and figuratively tired of this… wish there's some way to stop the plague of nightmares. I guess it doesn't help that I don't even know what my nightmares are about or why I have them.

You can't possibly understand how frustrating this is… sometimes when I jerk awake in the middle of the night, I just wanna scream and yell and pound my fists against the wall until I black out. I try to handle it all by myself, but I don't know how long I can keep this up… I definitely will not be able to deal with this my entire life.

Man, do I need a psychiatrist or something? I hope not, I'd hate to be one of the people living in the cuckoo house.

I peer at my alarm clock. Sunday, December 22, 6:11 A.M. The sun hasn't even woken up yet.

I can afford to sleep in…

-01210-

You ever wake up to the feeling that you're not alone in the room?

I open my eyes, trying to make out the blurry figure in front of me. Some tall blonde person… what's mom doing in my room without knocking? I always tell her to at least knock before c- _holy shit it's not mom._

My eyes spring open, revealing a high definition picture of fucking Lucas just standing matter-of-factly in my room, leaning against my desk with arms folded, looking straight at me.

"WHAT THE HELL?" I sit up in a flash.

"Surprise!" A feminine voice jeers.

I spin around with a growl. "Tracy why the fuck is he in here?"

My sister beams at me. "'Cause I knew you'd freak out. You know how much I love seeing you freak out."

"So you bring some stranger into my fucking _bedroom?_" I'm suddenly conscious of the fact that I'm not wearing a shirt. I grab one from my messy nightstand and pull it over myself.

"He's not really a stranger." Tracy says.

I turn and put on a loathing scowl at Blondie. Oh, wait, damn now there're two of them in the room. Blondie number 2 then.

He is unfazed. "Good morning." He says smoothly.

"Oh, yes, top of the morning to you." I reply. "Quite a wonderful day is it not? The sun is shining, the birds are ch- GET OUT OF MY ROOM."

Blondie no. 2 shrugs, and strolls out.

As soon as I hear his footsteps go down the stairs, I jump out of bed and put Tracy in a headlock.

"Oww! Ness stop!" Tracy whines between fits of giggles. Something _must _be up if she's laughing while trapped under my armpits.

"Spill. How do you know that kid and why did you let him into my room when I'm still sleeping." I say in my warning voice, bringing a fist up to Tracy's hair and giving her an especially hard noogie. I'm not nearly as amused as my sister apparently is, she's still laughing it up.

"Oww, oww! Okay, stop!" She hiccups. "Leggo and I'll tell!"

I relinquish my hold, but remain standing over her, blocking her escape. Seriously, I'm kind of pissed. I'm not a morning person. "Tell me everything, before I tie all your stuffed animals to fireworks"

"It's kinda your fault, y'know." She says as she runs her palms over her cap, trying to straighten her hair out again. "You gave him the wrong address to our house on purpose."

…what the hell?

"How do you know about that?" I bark. "How do you even know that guy in the first place?"

"How do I know Lucas? Bro, he's my Student Teacher's Assistant for my Art class."

Well this is news to me. Apparently my loner of a project partner has been in constant communication with my little sister for 4 months now. Student TA? I thought that role actually requires for you to talk. And to not be a prick.

"Bro, you okay? You have your thinking face on, should I be worried?"

"So wait," I shake my head. "That dude is your TA?"

"Yes…"

"And he knew that you're my sister and actually came up to you and asked you to confirm the address I gave him?"

Tracy smiles smugly. "What? Pissy that he ruined your childish little prank?"

"Yeah I am, actually." I sigh. Figures that things wouldn't go my way, even for a relatively harmless little prank like this one. "Now get out of my room."

Perpetuating that annoying little smile of hers, she skips out of my bedroom.

"Erm… and don't think you're off the hook!" I shout after her. "I'll get you back for this!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatevs." She waves me off, then disappears out my room. I don't think my feeble afterthought of a threat affected her much.

I took a glance at my clock. 10 in the morning. Well, no point in trying to go back to sleep.

I grudgingly wash myself up for the day, grudgingly find some fresh clothes, grudgingly head downstairs for breakfast, not even trying to hide my bad mood. I prepare my most intimidating expression for Blondie, waiting downstairs in _my _house, sitting there without _my _permission.

…except he's nowhere to be found. I wander through my living and dining room, unable to spot the idiot.

"Hey, sweetie. Had a good night's rest?" Mom asks the obligatory motherly question as I enter the kitchen.

"Not really..."

"Oh, nightmares again, hun?"

"Same story, different day."

Mom looks at me in that annoying doting way mothers use to make their kids feel like they're 3 again. She makes small 'tsk' noises. "My poor boy. How are you gonna grow big and strong without enough sleep?" She gently rubs the sides of my face with both her hands.

"Mo-om…" I chide softly, pulling away my flushed cheeks. But somehow, I find my edgy mood sorta blunted. Mom's always had this amazing power to somehow make everything seem brighter for me with just a few words and affectionate touches.

I look around. "Have you seen a blond kid that's not Tracy running around our house?"

"You mean your friend Lucas right?"

I blink. 'My friend Lucas'. Wow, mom just took a headfirst dive into the septic tank of false conclusions.

"Yeah… him."

"He's out in the front yard. Such a nice young man." She just has to add.

"Yeah, he's terrific. Be right back."

Stepping sloppily into some running shoes, I open our door to find him sitting on the grass with his back to me near the edge of our property, bordering the sidewalk.

As I approach him, I notice little puffs of translucent grey… smoke… coming… from…

Lucas _smokes?_

I mean… I know about other kids in my high school that smoke as well, but they're usually the same ones that wear black eyeliner. But Blondie? He just never gave me the impression that he's a deathstick dragger. Especially considering that he looks more or less healthy.

I move and stand beside him, looking down at him as he puts the little white cigarette to his lips and takes a drag.

He doesn't look at me when he acknowledges. "Hey, Ness. Are you awake now?" As he talks, puffs of white smoke escape his mouth.

And promptly floats on over into my nostrils. Oh god…

He lightly chuckles as I cough both my lungs out. "Not used to it, huh?"

"No, I don't usually associate myself with potheads." I retort coarsely.

He sighs and takes another drag, though this time he exhales away from my direction. Then he finally turns to look up at me with a faint smile.

"Say what you want, but this helps me calm my nerves." He says.

"Calm your nerves from what? You don't seem to lead the most exciting life."

"Well, I don't exactly live the most boring life either."

We fall silent. The sleepy Sunday morning street is quiet, save a few birds chatting away in bird-talk.

"So you're my sister's Art TA?" I ask out of the blue, not completely sure why I'm starting conversation with him.

He nods, taking another drag, the end of the little white stick lighting up momentarily, leaving behind brittle ash. Then he flicks the excess ash into a small bin he placed on the grass.

Wow, he actually brought his own ashtray.

Though admittedly I would probably have been pissed if he just dropped glowing cigarette embers onto my front lawn.

"And you asked her to confirm the address I gave you?" I continue asking.

"Not at first. It came up in casual conversation." He replies. "Tracy had asked me where the art supply store was, which didn't make sense considering the fake address you gave me is basically right next to it."

…so my first intentionally devious plan towards someone backfires by complete chance. Maybe I should just stick with being a good kid.

"So… what? To get me back, you decide to break into my room?"

"Wasn't my idea." He mutters. "Your sister's very… persuasive."

I snort. "Yeah, I can imagine, 'specially when it comes to fucking with me…"

More silence. Then with one final, comparatively louder exhale, Lucas smothers out his cigarette stub in his portable ash tray. Then he pushes himself upright.

...damn it, still a bit taller than me.

He looks at me expectantly. "So…"

"…what?" I ask.

"...am I still allowed in your house, or do you want to start our project some other day?"

I purse my lips, feeling I should give some sarcastic answer. Ah, fuck it, it's too early to be a smartass.

I cross my arms. "Fine, whatever, since you're already all the way here. I'm gonna get some breakfast first, though. D'you want something to eat?"

"No thanks, I already ate breakfast."

"Then wait for me in my room or something. You already know where it is." I bitingly add that last part.

"I guess I do." He replies evenly.

I wait for him to head in first, then follow. I'm surprising myself with my courteousness. My original plan of being a total stubborn antagonist toward Blondie isn't really happening…

Then again, I haven't been blind to his subtle acts of courtesy either. I mean, he can't be all that bad if mother already thinks he's 'such a nice young man' (which is actually saying something, since mom has a damn good judge of character and can see through fakers with ease). Taking care to not blow anymore second hand smoke into my face when talking, and even reconfirming with me permission to be in my house, that kind of stuff.

This is rather peculiar. Now I've got what seems like two sides of Blondie. One that's all nice and considerate and soft spoken. And one that hammered Fuel in the face and makes retarded prank drawings. I wonder if a whole 2 weeks' worth of Art project collaborating can help me find some strings to sew the two sides together.

…when did Lucas become such a person of interest in my life?

Maybe I do need therapy.


	11. Horsantula for your thoughts?

"…what the hell is that?"

"A Horsantula."

I stare at him. He looks back at me like it's the most obvious thing ever.

So if you're just joining us, basically I finished breakfast, went up to my room, and found Blondie sitting at my desk doodling on his sketchpad.

And by doodling, I mean shading in the most demonic looking picture of some… animal… thing… ever conceived. Horsantula is a pretty accurate name I guess, it's literally a drawing of a crazed horse's head on a tarantula's body. Oh, and the eight legs are horse hoofs. Because why the fuck not.

"A Horsantula." I repeat.

He nods.

"Well, thanks for clearing that up. Now for my next question. Why are you drawing a Horsantula?"

"Well," he swivels the chair to fully face me. "I was thinking about our subject word 'apple'…"

"Uh huh…"

"And then I started thinking about how sometimes you find worms in apples…" He continues, twirling his pencil between his fingers.

"Uh huh…"

"Then I started wondering if there's anything in the world that might like eating apples with worms in them…"

"Uh huh…"

"And then on a whim, I drew this." He finishes.

"…uh huh. Okay, okay. So are you sure the cigarettes haven't burned a few holes in your brain yet?"

He takes my smartass comment in stride as he turns back to work on his devil worshipping sketch. "Art's about inspiration." He comments blithely. "And inspiration pops up at random times. I like to draw down something immediately as inspiration comes, so I don't forget or lose interest later."

I merely hum as a response. If Horsantula here is an example of the kind of inspiration that takes over Blondie, I don't wanna know what the rest of his sketchbook looks like. But it's clear enough that he's damn good at bringing his nightmare fuel to life. I find myself staring interestedly at his hand as it washes fluidly over the paper, each stroke adding deeper definition, making it seem 3D on the flat surface.

…I was proud of myself when I drew my first cube in Art.

The scribbling stops, and he lifts his sketchbook for me to observe the finished Horsantula in all its glory. "What do you think?" He inquires.

"It's disgusting to look at, you Satanist. God, and here I was thinking that you weren't completely insane."

He quirks an eyebrow, lips curling up slightly. Again, not the reaction I expect from what I meant to be a demeaning statement.

"You know, it's almost like you don't mind when other people talk shit about you." I comment, tilting my head and folding my arms.

"Reacting to a drawing isn't an insult." He explains. "Art's supposed to provoke a reaction, and by yours, I'd say Horsantula here is a success."

"I see. And did you get the reaction you wanted when you drew that stupid picture of me the first day of school?"

Blondie gives me a look that almost seems like exasperation. I hold my stony stare.

"You're still on about that?" He says.

"Yeah, I am."

"Wow, Ness. If I had known you'd cry about it and write it down in your diary, I'd never have gone through with the joke." He scoffs in his quiet voice.

I feel my jaw twitch. This guy… I let my hands instinctively curl into fists. He notices, and stands up out of my chair and levels with me. I can see him tense up, but I know he's not gonna make a move until I do, unless he really, _really _wants die.

"You know, you're right. It's not a big deal." I say evenly. "But you know how _normal _people greet each other, Blondie? They say hi. They don't make crappy drawings of the other looking like a retard. If I had known you were gonna present yourself as a complete _prick, _I'd rather have taken my chance with the creepy Goth kids. At least they wouldn't try to ruin my mood on purpose!"

We stare each other down. Then his head droops down, seemingly at a loss for words. Then he looks back up again with a weird expression.

"Blondie?" He says.

I let out an audible sigh. "Yes. Blondie. That's you. Is that the only thing you pulled away from my rant you fucking idiot Blondie?"

"…I have a name, you know."

"Well, Kyotonese for dark dragon or whatever is too hard to remember, so you're Blondie." I reply snidely.

"I'd rather be remembered by name and not hair colour, _Ness!_" He snaps fiercely.

Whoa! Was not expecting that volatile reaction.

But as soon as the sharp words left his mouth, he turns back to his usual, stoic, meek self. He sits back down, and turns the chair so he's no longer facing me again.

Huh. So that's what it takes to provoke a satisfying reaction from him? Calling him Blondie? Man, what a guy. He takes threats of physical violence with the least of worries, but call him Blondie, holy hell dial 911.

"You want to know why I drew that picture of you that first day?" He suddenly says in a very quiet voice.

I don't answer. But he goes on anyway, refusing to look back at me.

"Because I'm a pathetic loser. That's why." He sighs, folding his hands over my desk and resting his chin on them. "All I really wanted that day was to just talk to you, Ness. You're the guy who makes friends with everybody, and I wanted to be a part of that too… But I couldn't work up the courage to actually come up to you and start conversation. I never could. It's one of the reasons why I don't have many friends. That, and Fuel…"

There's mention of the conflict between him and Fuel again. But I don't comment.

"I drew that picture hoping that when you saw it, you'd remember who I am." He continues with slight bitterness in his voice. "But what I thought was a meaningless prank backfired, I guess, since you didn't even acknowledge me anymore after that day… I hated myself after that, hated that I couldn't just come up and talk to you like a normal person, hated that I was always alone…"

He seems to be talking more to himself at this point.

"You know, I was so damn ecstatic when the teacher paired us for this project... aren't I fucking pathetic?" The last part of that comes out like a mumble.

"…yeah, you are." I concur. "You are fucking pathetic."

We fall silent.

Then I find myself walking up beside him, and putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Enough of this angsty bullshit, Lucas." I say. "Let's get to work. We have apples to draw."

He turns around, an expression of surprise flashing off just a bit too late for me to not see. He nods stiffly, and begins pulling supplies out of his bag.

So for the next few hours we stay muddled in my room, working steadily on our Art project. And Lucas continues to conduct himself with an apathetic air. I wonder if the kid is afraid of displaying too much emotion or something, because make no mistake about it, there's an extra spring in every movement he makes now. He's happy, even if he tries to hide it behind that blank face of his.

What can I say? I don't want my project partner to be emo for the next 2 weeks.

With lunch approaching, I'm beginning to think that I have to pull the courtesy bullshit again and invite him for food.

But he's a step ahead. "I'm gonna get going now." He says. "Can I come over tomorrow, same time, to keep working?"

"Sure, whatevs." I wave him away. "Just don't break into my room when I'm sleeping again."

"I'll try not to." He pauses halfway out my bedroom door. "…see you, Ness."

"Uh huh. Later."

I listen as he heads downstairs, says a quick and polite goodbye to mom, and with that he's out the door.

I heave a sigh, lying back on my bed with my hands behind my head. That wasn't as completely awkward and unpleasant as I imagined it would be.

Footsteps enter my room. "So how goes the project, bro?"

I make a non committal 'ehh' sound.

"You can't be more specific?" Tracy pries, sitting down on the edge of my bed.

"Well what do you want me to say? We brainstormed, we talked about apples, we drew Horsantulas. Nothing interesting that you need to worry about."

"…Horsantulas?"

"Don't ask."

Tracy falls back, letting her head rest on my stomach. I don't feel like pushing her off.

"I'm actually more wondering how Lucas acted around you."

"Indifferent." Comes my more or less honest reply. "Why?"

She doesn't respond. We lie there staring at the ceiling, my breathing pushing her head up and down rhythmically.

"Y'know, Lucas is the first guy in school I told that I'm gay." Tracy says out of the blue.

I raise my head best I can from my position. "What?"

"He's been really encouraging about the whole thing. He's been giving little bits of advice on how to break the news to people, and he's kept it secret from everyone like I'd asked. He even offered to be there with me when I eventually come out to my friends."

She sits back up and turns to look at me. "He's a really nice guy if you get to know him, Ness."

I soak what Tracy just told me in. Weirdly enough, I don't have a problem believing that at all.

"So try not to make him wanna kill himself with your stupidity."

And that's how I end up chasing her downstairs, just in time to hear mom announce that we're going shopping after lunch for Christmas decorations.

-01210-

Next morning, I find myself answering the doorbell and receiving quite an unpleasant surprise.

Two blonds. One tall, thin, with a ducktail hairstyle in front. The other short, pudgy, with a bowl cut covering the eyes. I groan inwardly.

"Heyyy, Ness! Who's this loser?" Pokey jabs a thumb at Lucas, who's shifting around uncomfortably. Not that I blame him. "I've never seen him around before."

"No hanging out today, Pokey." I skip straight to the inevitable point, pulling the skinny blond through the door. "I'm working on an important project with Lucas right now."

"Aww! Come on Ness! Some stupid project can wait! I've got a whole day planned just for the two of us!" Pokey says excitedly, while at the same time shooting a rather pointed look at my project partner.

"Pokey, you know that I take my schoolwork very seriously. School above anything else." I say in as believable of a voice as I can. "Maybe next time."

"Well… what are you working on?" He tries, smiling broadly. " The Great Pokey can certainly help you with anything you need! I'm a much better partner than this kid here!"

"I don't doubt it, but my current partner will do fine. Maybe next time okay, Pokey?" I tell him semi-patiently, closing the door on him.

"B-but you've known me for way longer than _him, _why can't I-."

"_Maybe next time okay, Pokey?_"

Before the door fully shuts, I notice Pokey giving Lucas an ominous glare. Should I be worried? Oh whatever, he'll throw a tantrum for a few days and forget it.

On our way to my room, mom and Lucas exchange another all to warm greeting. I'm not really sure how to feel about how quickly mom has taken a liking to the guy. But I do know that mom's on the dot when it comes to sorting out the good from bad. On occasion when I bring some of my shadier friends to our home, she'd give basic formal greetings, but would not go further to make them feel welcome. Then after they leave she'd blab in my ear about my friend choices.

Honestly, I don't really like how Lucas has already placed himself on the good side of everyone in my house.

We continue working on our project. I'm pretty much letting Lucas pave the path, and happily walking behind him. He really knows his stuff. Despite not really expressing any outward passion, you can tell this guy's the real deal art nut.

"How d'you become so good at this stuff?" I ask, flipping through his sketchbook, making sure to pass over Horsantula quickly.

"I've always liked art." He answers quietly. "And I've had plenty of time in the past few years to practise."

"…so, like, are you gonna be an artist or something in the future?"

"Probably not."

I wait for him to continue. The dense idiot doesn't.

"Then what are you gonna be?" I ask with a hint of annoyance.

"I want to be an architect."

…again, he doesn't elaborate further. God, he's like a cheap wind-up toy, he'll go as much as you turn the knob.

"And why do you wanna be an architect?"

He faces me with that god forsaken small smirk on his face again. "I'm happy that you're taking such an interest to my life, Ness."

Good point. Why am I caring so much? "You know what, I don't give a damn." I dismiss, throwing his sketchbook on my desk.

He chuckles softly. "I want to be an architect because I like creating things, being able to conceive and build my ideas, my thoughts, and change the world with them."

God, what a hippie like thing to say.

"What about you, Ness?" Lucas asks. "What do you wanna be?"

"A really awesome guy. Oh wait," I look down at myself. "Mission accomplished."

"Seriously though. I notice you have a lot of Physics notes lying around your desk."

Crap, those are my study notes. With no more Jeff around, I have had to read and organize the Physics work myself to try to catch up. Learned a few things about myself along the way, such as if they ever invent an Olympic sport for organization, I should never try out.

"What about them?" I ask, more defensively than I wanted.

"I wasn't aware awesomeness required the Advanced Physics elective."

"Well, the more you know."

"…come on, Ness. Tell me."

Why should I? I don't wanna divulge my entire future plan to some stupid tobacco smoking hippie kid I only got to know yesterday.

"I want to become a pilot." …why did I say that?

"A pilot?" Lucas's brows raise.

"Yeah, a pilot. I think it's cool being able to fly, it's no fun being grounded my whole life." …why am I still talking? "Besides, I've always wanted to see the world outside of Eagleland." Seriously, why am I telling all this stuff to him?

Lucas breaks into a smile. Not a smirk, a smile.

"I bet that's a side of you not many people see." He says. "I think you'll make a great pilot."

Before I can react to that, he turns and starts walking out the door.

"Wait, where're you going?" …I mean, not that I care.

"Cigarette break. Be right back."

As he goes out to pollute my front yard, I think back to a similar conversation I had with Tracy some time ago. When I told her my plan to become a pilot, she… more or less laughed at the idea, not believing I'd ever be capable of flying planes. Even though it's possible that she had just been teasing like usual, I became sort of defensive, not really willing to tell anybody else about my career choice. My sister's reaction made me less inclined to know what others might think.

God, I sound like some insecure little girl.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out and read the return text Paula _finally _sends me. Apparently she's been hanging around Ninten quite a lot, which would explain why those two have sort of disappeared off the map. Usually as soon as break time comes, we'd gather together and play sports, mess around, loiter, all that good stuff. But this year, they've quietly retreated from my invitations.

Looks like their minds are still on Ana. It's fitting for the former best friend and former boyfriend to come together and talk about it, try to figure things out. As long as they're not retreating into their shells and letting Ana's abrupt goodbye ruin their lives, I'm happy.

The more I think about it, the angrier I'm getting with Ms. Oh-So-Innocent Ana. I've half a mind to drive 1000 kilos to Snowman just to call her out for her random, stupid decision to leave Onett.

I send a text back to my girlfriend, offering to hang out sometime after Christmas… which now that I think about it is just around the corner. Damn, time goes fast. The stores have put up decorations since October, so I've lost track of when the Jolly Fat Man would actually be squeezing down chimneys.

Speaking of holiday spirit… Lucas has just come back… with a head full of dandruff that I'm pretty sure he didn't have before.

I peer outside. Snow's coming down, hard. Looks like a white Christmas after all. What's up with this year? Onett's been getting more snow the past week than it has the entire last century.

"Hope the storm lets up soon, or it's not going to be fun getting home." Lucas mutters.

"Eh," I shrug. "What's a little snow."

Turns out, a lot. 'Cause after another hour or so, the storm's only gotten worse. My fenced backyard has pretty much turned into a white, fluffy swimming pool.

"I better get going now, before I'm screwed…" Lucas says as we stare out the window at the curtain of white.

"'Kay, come back on the 26th. I need a break from your annoying face." I tell him.

"No problem. Merry Christmas, Ness."

"Yeah, you too."

I hear him go down the stairs. Then I hear some muffled conversation between him and mom that's lasting longer than it should. Then I hear someone coming up the stairs.

"Your mom won't let me leave in this storm." Lucas says meekly as he re-enters my bedroom.

…goddamn it.

And that's how he ends up staying for lunch.

Sometime in the afternoon:

"I really need to get going, ma'am." Lucas says to mom, who's putting ornaments on our tree. "Thank you for lunch, but I shouldn't intrude any longer."

"Yeah, mom. His parents are probably worried sick." I supply.

"Oh, no. I'm not letting you go out there in that weather, young man." Mom orders. "You stay here until that weather lets up. You can call your parents to tell them where you are."

And that's how he ends up staying for dinner.

At this point, I'm getting kind of annoyed at Lucas. Not because he's being intrusive, but because he's really trying to be anything _but._ He's been doing his best to not disrupt our daily routines, he's been really polite and thankful during dinners, offering to do chores, never butting into our conversations, just being the perfect guest.

I fucking hate it.

And really, I don't know why. I feel like I'm looking for an excuse to dislike Lucas at this point. I mean, aren't I supposed to? He drew that stupid picture, he punched my friend in the face, he's a pretentious, irksome, slightly-taller-than-me asshole with the world's most annoying smirk. He's… he's…

I sigh to myself. God, this whole thing would've been a lot simpler if I had some random chick for a project partner instead.

The sky gets dark. Well, darker than it has been. And the snow's still falling at an alarming rate.

"Ma'am, thank you for your hospitality, but I very much need to get going now." Lucas insists, putting on his shoes at the door. He cuts mom off as she's about to speak. "No really, I have to get home, thanks for your concern, but I'll make it."

Mom looks unhappy, but relents, letting Lucas open the front door to leave.

As soon as he does, the wall of snow that's formed outside avalanches into our home, burying him.

…and that's how he ends up being persuaded into _staying the fucking night._

Tracy sets up a sleeping bag for him in the living room, because we don't want to expose him to the toxic stench of my bedroom for too long, as she eloquently describes it. Lucas gives her a questioning look, but doesn't ask any more questions.

As he goes into our bathroom and washes up, I thank Tracy and give her a quick hug. I know she purposely avoided setting up the sleeping bag in my room, since it would be very awkward if I have another nightmare attack and wake Lucas up with my scream in the middle of the night. Tracy smiles back before disappearing into her room, the 'People with Black Hair Not Allowed' sign swinging as she shuts the door.

Not too long after, Lucas comes out, wearing the sleeping clothes I loaned out to him. His straw coloured hair isn't completely dry yet, but still somehow retains that weird ducktail shape.

"How do you get your hair like that?"

"I don't know, it's always been like this." He says, running a hand over to flatten it, but the shape springs back up as soon as he removes his hand.

I grin. "Whatever, you freak."

As I lead him down the stairs, I notice he's tugging at my shirt that he's wearing.

"What's up?"

"…it's a bit short."

"Yeah, rub it in why don't you…" I mumble, feeling sour.

His sleeping bag is laid out in between the TV and sofa. I nod towards it.

"I don't need to teach you how to work a sleeping bag, right?"

"I think I can manage, thanks."

"So have you called your mom and dad to tell them you're staying here?"

"Oh. Erm, yes I have."

Such a bad lie. "You should call them." I suggest firmly.

He sighs. "It's okay, really."

"I don't want them worrying about you."

"He won't be worried."

I don't like how skittish he sounds. "Lucas, what's the matter with-."

"Just… don't worry, okay?" He grins weakly at me, trying to take me off this conversation.

I purse my lips. There's something not right about this kid. Something feels off… almost uneasy. Then I remember back to how he described his father. 'Useless. Alcoholic. Violence prone…' I think? Is that what he said?

It suddenly occurs to me that he secretly may not want to go home.

"Hey Ness?" His voice snaps me out of my thoughts.

"Hmm?"

"If you don't mind me asking… where's your dad?"

I blink. "Oh. He's right there." I point.

Lucas follows my finger, looking utterly bemused.

"…your dad's a… bureau?"

"No, he's sitting on top of it."

"…he's a lamp?"

"No, the other thing."

"Ah, he's the phone. Wait, what? Your dad's a phone?"

"Yeah…" I can't help but smile. "It's like a joke in my family. Dad works in Fourside, and he rarely comes home. We usually only talk to him over the phone, so, yeah."

Lucas nods. "I see. But isn't he at least coming home for Christmas?"

"…not this year, he's a bit swamped with work, so…" I unwillingly sound disappointed.

I guess Lucas notices, because he doesn't ask more.

"Here's a picture, if you want." I offer, taking a small framed photo from the coffee table and handing it to him. The picture was taken by some random self proclaimed photographic genius in a top hat when we were visiting him in Fourside.

"That's him." I point to the tall man with medium length black hair, his hands on me and Tracy's shoulders. Ah… good ol' dad. I gotta look at this picture more often myself, or else half the time I forget what the man looks like.

"I see…" Lucas says in a barely audible voice.

But I catch something. He sounds puzzled. Why does he sound puzzled?

"Hey, is there something you wanna say?" I ask.

"...why does your dad wear a wig?"

…Say what? He hands me the photo, and I hold it close to my face, squinting at my dad's head, but failing to see anything out of the ordinary. "What are you talking 'bout?"

Lucas points it out for me. "You see that line, where the skin changes tones?" I look closely, and see what he's talking about. "That's where the wig starts. Most people won't be able to tell, but I can always see it, for some reason."

"…who knows, maybe his hairline's receding or something…" I shrug, putting the picture back. Huh, learn something new every day. Apparently that black mop on my dad's head is artificial. I'll ask (tease) him about it when we call him during Christmas.

We sit on the sofa and chat a bit more, admiring the Christmas tree mom set up near the lobby, flashing its cheap plastic lights.

Pretty soon after though, Lucas gets up worms into his sleeping bag with a yawn. I'm feeling a bit drained myself.

"Night." I say, getting up and heading to the stairs.

"Ness?"

I let out a tiny groan, although I'm not actually annoyed. "What now?"

"Thanks for letting me stay over. I'll be out…" He yawns. "…out of your hair before you know it…"

"Just go to sleep." I say, turning off the lights and heading up to my bedroom.

I lay on my bed and close my eyes to the alarm clock reading: Tuesday, December 24, 1:45 AM.

When I open them again, it reads: Tuesday, December 124, 3:12 AM.

Surprisingly, I wasn't jerked awake by another random, untraceable nightmare. I'm happy that tonight's a night of peace for me. But I do want a glass of water.

As I head downstairs, I hear shuffling. It takes me a second to remember that I have a guest sleeping on the floor tonight.

As I near the kitchen though, the shuffling now becomes accompanied by some quiet murmuring. I frown, and detour over to the living room. I happen upon the sleeping bag heap wiggling around quite a bit, along with Lucas's incoherent mumbling.

I tiptoe over to where his head sticks out. Lucas's head is filmed in a thin layer of sweat that's obvious even in the darkness. His eyes are shut tightly, his brows furrowed, and he's uttering incomprehensible sleep talk.

If I don't know the symptoms, then nobody does. He's having a nightmare.

And by the looks of it, a pretty bad one too.

I consider waking him up, but I remember that sometimes people who are shaken awake from intense nightmares can react really badly, and sometimes violently. So instead I sneak away, grab my glass of water, and start heading back to bed.

At the base of the stairs, I look back at Lucas again. He's still struggling with himself, looks like.

"Good luck…" I whisper, then walk back up to my bedroom.

I may not favour Lucas, but I don't wish horrible things upon the people I don't favour either. I know how bad a nightmare can be, and how draining they are on a person's mental state. I know better than anyone. So I wish him good luck, and hope his personal hell can come to an end soon.

-01210-

The next time I open my eyes, the clock reads: Tuesday, December 24, 9:01 AM. The sun's shining through the cracks of my blinds, leaving horizontal slits of white over my bed.

I yawn, get up, and pull up the blinds. The storm's stopped overnight, leaving a cover of gleaming white as far as I can see. Not a cloud in the sky, either. Funny how weather works, really.

…something smells good, I just notice. Mom's cooking up something fancy. No doubt for our guest.

...turns out, it's the other way around. Our guest is cooking up something fancy. For mom and her two kids.

I sit at the table, staring cautiously at the fluffy yellow… thing in front of me. I tentatively poke at it with a fork. Is it edible? Is it safe for Nesses to eat?

"It's an omelette." Lucas explains. "Try it out."

I oblige with a small bite.

…not as good as steak. But still a pretty damn amazing breakfast alternative. Looks like mom and sis agree as well, mom's halfway through hers, and Tracy's already vacuumed down the whole thing. Guess my project partner's pretty good with the culinary arts as well.

Suffice to say, if mom and Tracy didn't love Lucas 24 hours before when his stay started, they must now.

So it's not surprising when their faces express disappointment as Lucas announces that he's leaving. With no more excuse to stop him, they settle for sickeningly heartfelt goodbyes. I roll my eyes.

Though I find myself leading him out through our snowy front yard.

At the sidewalk, he turns to face me with that usual indifferent look. I don't offer much back.

"So… I hope you didn't have too bad of a time, having to share your space with me for a whole day…" He says, shoving his hands in his pockets.

I give an unhelpful shrug.

"…listen, I know you're not happy to be stuck with me for-."

"Shut up, dude." I interrupt. "Stop with the self pitying bullshit. It's annoying."

He lets out a long breath, a stream of fog escaping his mouth. It is winter, after all.

"I'm expecting you back here on the 26th, 'kay? Don't scamp out on me, I need a good mark." I say, folding my arms.

A nod. "No problem. See you then."

"Merry Christmas, Lucas." I add. "Christmas is about family. So try to have a good one, alright?"

He blinks, then nods with a smile. "I'll try. Merry Christmas to you too. Say hi to your dad for me."

"I probably won't."

"Yeah, I don't expect you to. Bye."

As he disappears into the distance, I see him pull out another cigarette and put it towards his face.

I head back inside, looking forward to having things back to normal. But as soon as I get back to my unoccupied room, I realize that over the past 2 days or so, it's become normal seeing that damn blond taking up space in my house.

I sit at my desk, staring at my Physics notes, thinking about Lucas. He may not want me to find out, hell, he may not even be aware of this himself, but I know one thing for sure about that kid. All the signs point toward it. The stoicism, the explanation for his prank, the smoking, the thing with his parents, the soft voice, even the fights with Fuel…

Lucas is brittle.

And I feel inclined to help him. It's like a built in feature for every Ness Unit, to help and watch over these kinds of people.

Hmm… remember back when I described that I live my life inside overlapping bubbles? I wonder when I let Lucas so far in through the layers.


	12. Christmas ghosts

It's Christmas Eve. Actually, it's already Christmas, since it's past 12 AM.

I honestly didn't expect my Christmas to turn out like this.

I'm sitting cross legged on my living room's coffee table right now, staring thoughtfully at the passed out cold figure on the sofa. The same figure that had been sleeping here a mere one night ago.

I remember being told that the drunk mind speaks hidden truths, or something along those lines. Man, I didn't expect that saying to be so… true. I mean, I picked up on hints that Lucas has problems before, but I didn't realize just how serious they are until now…

_Most families cook an obese turkey for their Christmas Eve dinner. Not us. Mom brought her A-game and grilled up the best steaks the world has ever known. Exclusively for us. We sat around the table, chatting and chowing down, a few candles lighting up the whole place, our Christmas tree lighting up in the corner. Even though it's just the three of us, we somehow always manage to have the most comforting, warming, just in general, really awesome Christmas Eves._

_During our post dinner game of Monopoly, mom dispatches me to grab some light groceries, since the snow yesterday ruined her shopping plans, and tomorrow everything's closed. And because I'm the best son anyone can ask for, I bundled up in a jacket and trudged off to the store. _

_I had to squint my eyes as I walked past the Minch residence. While most houses over the holidays just put out a few flashing decorations and lights, Pokey's family always smothers their house with an incredibly excessive amount of lights, and put a crapload of expensive decorations on their lawn. It's a wonder that planes flying over their home don't crash. It's like the fat bastards feel the need to show off and outdo everybody in everything._

_As I reached Onett's 'downtown', I look around to see most of the restaurants and stores to be open, but empty. No surprise, since everybody's probably home with their family._

_It also made it that much easier to spot Lucas in an empty bar. _

_I just happened to be glancing into the place when my eyes caught sight of the familiar skinny blond figure. He was the only person in the destitute looking pub. _

_I wondered what he was doing there, I thought that he'd be spending Christmas in the warmth of his own home. Curious and slightly worried, I stepped into the shady bar._

_That's when I saw the bottles. At least nine of them. All of them beer. All of them empty._

_I cautiously approached the counter. Lucas didn't notice or acknowledge me as I climbed up on the stool beside him. I looked at him, and instantly felt very uncomfortable._

_He was shit faced, all right. Cheeks red, a bit sweaty, swaying slightly on his seat, all the signs of really being hammered. But what I noticed the most were the red, puffy eyes. One hand was placed across the counter, the other was shakily holding a half empty bottle of beer identical to the nine other empty ones._

_Oh my god… _

_Nine fucking beers and counting on a skinny 16 year old like Lucas is gonna screw him up! Why's he out here in this sketchy as hell bar drinking? Why's he drinking in the first place?_

"_Lucas?" I ventured out._

_No response. Was he so far gone that he couldn't hear or respond to me anymore?_

"_Lucas?" I repeated louder._

"_Go home, Ness." He rasped, surprisingly not slurring his words._

_Now that I knew he was listening and replying, I flipped on my pissed off mode. "Lucas what the hell are you doing out here so late drinking by yourself? You're fucking underage!"_

"_Don't preach that bullshit to me." He shouted back. "You gonna tell me you don't have any friends who drink?"_

_Well he got me there, but I was more put off by how aggressive he sounded. A stark contrast to the Lucas I'm used to. _

"_Not as much as you are. God, do you even know how many bottles you've had now?"_

"_Yeah, like two… two or three… or… two…" He hiccupped, then downed the rest of bottle number fucking ten in one gulp. "Fuck, I'm out. Barkeep… barkeep where the hell are you…?"_

"_Dude!" I shout indignantly. "If you keep going you're gonna waste away! You need to go home!"_

"_Shut up… you're not the boss…" He stumbled his words. "The boss of me." He turned around, looking for the bartender again._

_I grabbed his shoulder and forced him to look back at me. "You need to listen to me." I hissed._

"_Fuck off!" He suddenly shouted, and even though his blue eyes were puffy and unfocused, they were expressing serious anger towards me. I didn't know what to think. "I'm done listening to… to you! You've been nothing but a goddamn… goddamn asshole to me ever since we started working on the project!" I could smell the alcohol infested breath as he spat his words at me. _

"_Oh my, I hear yelling, is something the matter?" A strange (Scarabian?) accent sounded. I saw who I assumed to be the bartender come out from the back room. _

"_Yeah, I need another one of the… these, Fassad." Lucas told him, slamming down some bills on the counter._

_The barkeep named Fassad grinned pleasantly. "Certainly, Mr. Lucas." And without hesitation, he took the bills and sent another bottle Lucas's way._

_What the fuck was that? This guy just sold a minor beer without a second thought! I watched painfully as Lucas tried to grab the bottle with his unsteady hand and miss once, twice, before shakily picking it up and bringing it to his mouth. If I wasn't worried before, now I'm fearing for my project partner's life._

"_Dude, enough!" I leaned forward and slapped the bottle out of Lucas's hand, sloshing the bubbly contents all over the counter._

"_Ah, what is the meaning of this, kind sir?" The Fassad guy yelped, jumping back to avoid the beer._

"_You shut the fuck up." I told him in a deadly voice. "You just sold a teenager ten fucking bottles of alcohol. Look at him! He's gonna keel over! What the hell's wrong with you?"_

"_It's merely business." He replied calmly. "I must make money for myself somehow, and Christmas Eve is always such a slow day."_

_I slammed my hands on the counter, growling. "I'm gonna call the police on your ass and get this shitty excuse for a bar shut-."_

_Something collided hard with my cheek, and the force threw me off my stool. My head reeled, the unexpected painful blow stunning me. _

_And even more so when I realized that it was Lucas's fist that did the damage._

"_That was my beer!" He said angrily, standing unsteadily over me._

_Okay, that was it. I've had it with this bullshit. I kicked his legs out from under him, I didn't even need to kick hard, his drunken ass fell over by itself practically. Then I pounced on him, sitting on his legs, leaning over him and grabbing the front of his shirt, pinning him to the wooden floorboards._

"_You're getting on my nerves." I whispered through clenched teeth. "It's Christmas Eve, and I'm looking after your drunken, sorry ass in some shitty bar in the middle of town. What the fuck's up with you?"_

_He didn't look apologetic whatsoever. In fact, he looked like he loathed me. He struggled as much as his beer laden body would allow, but there was no way I was letting him get free._

"_Then why don't you just leave me the fuck alone then?" He shouts back. "Take your own advice and go back home to your perfect family and have a fucking merry Christmas!"_

"_Trust me, I want nothing more right now." I said, pressing harder against his chest._

_He struggled some more, then realized it was futile and relaxed, breathing heavily. Suddenly he looked very pitiful, trapped under me with those puffy red eyes._

"_Please let me off." He requested._

"_Not until you tell me why you're not at home now." I said._

"…_I don't wanna go home." _

_This was what I was afraid of. "Why?" I asked sternly._

"'_Cause I don't wanna go back to my shitty excuse of a home, okay?" Lucas yelled, thrashing against my grip with renewed strength. "Ever since mom died, all my fucking dad does is lounge around our shithole of a house and drink himself stupid! He doesn't care about finding a job, or keeping the place clean, or any of that stuff! He doesn't care about me!"_

_I widened my eyes, unable to process what I just heard. I'm sure Sober Lucas would never have willingly told me that. Honestly, I didn't know what to do then. Where was I supposed to go from there?_

"_Lucas-."_

"_Shut the fuck up! It's your fault too! You're the world's luckiest bastard and you don't even know it! You have this amazing life, you've never had anything to worry about, and you take it all for granted! And me? My life is utter crap! Why do you get to be so lucky when I can't catch a break? WHY DO YOU GET TO HAVE FRIENDS THAT LOVE YOU AND FAMILY THAT LOVES YOU WHILE I CAN'T HAVE EITHER!?"_

_I swallowed, his words ringing loudly in my ears. It sucks that much more that what he said is all true. But I also realized that he was attacking me because I was available to let loose on. He probably never had the chance to let out his feelings like he just did to anybody else. He bottled it all up. _

_I focused back on Lucas, and noticed there were tears tracking down his cheeks. And soon after I realized that the puffy eyes were because he had been crying the whole afternoon. My feeling of pity intensified painfully._

_He's drinking to escape._

"_Lucas…" I began, but had no idea how to finish._

"_Today… when I went home like you… you told me to…" He started quietly. "I saw… I saw dad wasted on the couch. And when he… he saw me, he… he called me Claus." He shook his head, more tears coming out. "I left and came here after that. 'Cause I'm not Claus. I'm not fucking Claus, I'm Lucas! But he only cares about Claus, not Lucas… but I'm not Claus… do I look like Claus to you?"_

"_No you don't." I knew understanding what he was babbling about was not important then, but reassuring him was. I stared straight into his eye, speaking firmly. "You're not Claus. You're Lucas. You're Lucas, okay?"_

"_I'm… I'm Lucas…" He repeated, staring back. Then he shut his eyes, sniffing loudly as tears continued flowing out._

_After he calmed down a bit, I resolved to take him back to my home. My home, not his. I pulled him to a standing position, but his inebriated stance was not suitable for walking, so I had to put a hand around his shoulders and slowly guide him. _

_Exiting the bar, I gave that Fassad asshole a venomous look. He merely smiled innocently back. I swore I was gonna tear his little peddler bar down._

_As I steadily led Lucas back home, he muttered incoherently, speaking in fragments. The parts I could pick up were uncomfortable to listen to, like I was tuning in on someone's private thoughts._

"_She picked… us up… she kept saying… don't worry… worry… ran… hugged us close… but… useless… died anyway… she… I tried waking her up... she won't… wake… up… won't… wake up…"_

_As soon as we were in the house, I plopped him down on the couch, and he passed out there. After some quick explanations, mom got an extra blanket for him, as well as a glass of water and Tylenol that she set down on the counter beside the couch. _

_So much for the groceries…_

Now that I think back, I could've easily just left him there. I could've turned a blind eye, it would've saved me a lot of trouble, and I'd be coming back with fresh groceries and heading into Christmas Day on a high note.

But I didn't. And now I'm involved in the hellish fiasco that is Lucas's life.

Suddenly my life problems seem pale compared to his. I think back to the things he yelled at me in his inebriated state. I can't deny it. I have friends that love me and family that loves me. But him…

I guess I'd turn stoic too if I had all his home problems and no friends to vent to.

I watch him silently sleep for a bit longer, then head upstairs to wash up, get the alcohol breath off my skin. I change into my sleep wear.

Then I rummage out my sleeping bag, carry it downstairs, and lay it out on the ground parallel to the sofa.

I turn off the lamp, crawl into the bag, and let sleep claim me.

I'll be right here for Lucas if he needs help.

-01210-

I pound on Tracy's bedroom door, not really mindful of the fact that it's 8 in the morning and she's probably still snoozing.

She opens the door, rubbing her eyes. "What's your problem, you brain damaged loser? I'm trying to get some-."

"Tracy, do you have Lucas's phone number, or any way to contact him?" I interrupt urgently.

I guess she picked up on how frantic I sounded, because she slaps on her serious face. "Yeah, I have his cellphone number, why?"

"Tell me." I pull out my own phone, barely aware of the Merry Christmas texts I've received from everybody.

"Bro, what happened?"

"The damned idiot wasn't here when I woke up, I think he snuck out."

When I cracked open my eyes this morning, seeing the couch unoccupied with a folded blanket on one end, and the Tylenol and water untouched sent me into full worry mode. I searched around our property, feebly hoping he was just hiding, or in the bathroom, or even taking a smoke break. No luck.

Tracy gives me the number, and I punch it in my cell, putting it to my ear. The steady tone confirms that my call has connected to somewhere.

"_Hello_…" I hear his voice.

"Lucas! Where are-."

"_You've reached Lucas's cellphone. I'm not available to take your call right now. If you're one of my students for 9A Art, leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as I can_."

"Fuck!" I swear loudly.

And as usual, mom decides to take that exact moment to pop her head out of her room. "Ness, what did I say about-."

"Mom, I'm going out to look for Lucas. I'll be back." I tell her as I hastily pull a jacket and jeans over my sleepwear and leap down the stairs, not sparing any more time for explanations.

For the next 3 hours or so, I brave the snow covered Onett, searching up and down for the goddamn idiot. Nice way to start the Christmas Day, with vigorous exercise. But with no clue to where he may be, the search is pretty much just me going up and down streets, hoping to catch sight of him.

It's nearing noon. Out of ideas and out of breath, I call it quits and head home, frustrated.

It seems my concern for Lucas is shared by mom and Tracy as well, as they both appear rather anxious when I return without the blond. He really must've grown on them to warrant such genuine worry from them.

Needless to say I'm not impressed with Lucas right now. He's got me and my whole family worried about him. And the stupidest part is that he probably thinks he's being noble or some shit for leaving because he's no longer burdening us anymore with his presence.

That's another thing I've figured out about him. Because he has so few people that care about him, he tries so hard, a lot harder than anyone, to be kind and not cause trouble for those few people that make him happy.

He's deathly afraid that we'll leave him. What a sad, sad kid.

I spend the rest of the afternoon lying on my bed, on my phone texting back friends. Chatting it up with Paula, who's trapped in her home by her parents, who always celebrate the holidays in painfully traditional ways. With Ninten, who's suffering a similar fate, but he says his uncle Giegue is there, so it's not so bad. With Fuel, who's concocting his annual batch of New Year's fireworks. With Ana… kind of… if you call her sending one merry Christmas text, then not responding to my follow up messages a conversation.

See, those are the people I should have my full attention on right now.

Which clearly explains why I'm calling Lucas's number every half hour, hoping someone other than his voicemail would answer.

This is going beyond any reasonable concern I should be having for somebody I didn't even know existed before that first day of school. Why am I going so far for him? I should be spending the effort elsewhere.

But I realize that the moment I resolved to take the broken Lucas back home with me last night, was also the moment I resolved to take responsibility for him. I admit. I care for that kid.

After all, if I don't, who will?

So that's why I dial his number for the 45th time, listening to the voicemail talk in my ear. But this time I wait for it to finish.

Then after beep, "hey Lucas, it's Ness. I got your number from Tracy. Listen, I don't know what was going through your mind this morning to just run off without telling us anything, but… well, you had mom and Tracy real worried. And… well I'm more pissed off at you than anything… but yeah, I was a bit worried too. Seriously, I was, otherwise I wouldn't have ran around the whole damn town looking for your scrawny ass. But whatever. You did a stupid thing, but it's done. I'm just calling to remind you that you still have to come tomorrow for our project. Don't think you can just skip out either, okay? Or I will hunt you down. So… yeah. Later."

-01210-

He shows up mid-afternoon the next day.

When I answered the door and saw his face, I actually felt a sense of relief. I was admittedly a bit worried that he wouldn't show.

But here he is. I immediately note the slightly unhealthy presentation. He looks a bit paler than usual, and there's bags under his eyes. But otherwise he seems the same, hands in pockets, still holding that indiscriminate expression. It's a completely different person from Drunk Lucas.

We regard each other silently for a few moments.

Then I step up to him and punch him hard in the stomach.

To his credit, he doesn't drop on the ground, crying in pain. But he does double over, clutching his midsection.

"Do you know why I punched you?" I ask.

He looks up at me soberly, looking unsure on how to answer.

"Well?" I press.

"…"

"Let me guess what you're thinking. You think I punched you because I saw you bingeing, and I had to go all out of my way to help you. You think I'm pissed at you for causing so much trouble for me and my family."

There's no answer, but the way he's desperately avoiding eye contact says it all.

I sigh. "Goddamn idiot." Then I turn around to walk up the stairs.

And of course, he doesn't follow me.

"You coming or not?" I call back.

There's a pause, before I hear him take off his shoes and fall in step behind me up to my bedroom.

As soon as we get there, he starts taking his art stuff out rather quickly, like he's trying to avoid further delving into the subject.

"Lucas, stop for a sec."

He freezes.

"Sit down," I gesture to a seat beside me on the bed. "We're gonna talk, whether you want to or not."

With a defeated sigh, he reluctantly does so, taking his seat to my side. Still refusing to look at me. Still refusing to make a sound.

"Okay. Let's start with how you got into drinking."

He's making it damn difficult by not speaking.

"Listen, after all the crap we went through looking after you, you can at least give us an idea of why you have so many damn problems!"

I didn't mean to sound so inconsiderate, but I want answers. Otherwise I don't think I'd be able to continue working with him for school, knowing that every time he steps out the door he could be going to waste himself again.

"…the drinking started a few years back." He finally speaks in a rough but quiet voice. "Dad's doing it all the time, and he said it helps him feel better, so I tried it out myself. It doesn't work in the long run, but at times it seems to help…"

"You know how bad it is for you right?" I follow up. "Especially how much you were guzzling down?"

"I think everyone knows in the back of their mind that it's bad." He muses. "But it's not what they think about when they're desperate."

"Desperate, huh?" I echo. He numbly nods.

I remember back to last night.

"Lucas, what happened to your mom?" I ask, fully conscious of how direct I'm being.

I don't expect him to just straight up answer me. Which he doesn't, he merely idles there, staring at my carpet. I guess my directness isn't always the shrewdest of methods, but if you haven't already guessed this far into my game, I'm not a patient person.

I put a firm hand on his shoulder. "Hey, come on dude, look at me."

He does, but I see a strangely defiant expression on his tired looking face.

"Listen, I'm not forcing you to tell me anything," I tell him, not used to being so serious for so long. "But it's not good for you to keep everything to yourself. I don't wanna find you in a bar destroying your liver again, alright? So just… well…"

Fuck it, I'm not doing too good trying to get my point across, am I? Really all I am attempting to do is get him to trust me without sounding preachy or like some gay psychiatrist.

"…am I worth all this trouble?" He asks.

I sigh. "You've gotta understand, _that's not the point_."

His obsession with not causing problems for others is really something. I wonder if this is a side effect from being a loner.

"…my mom died during the terrorist bombing at the Summers Marathon."

That's something the media made sure nobody would forget anytime soon. A few improvised bombs hidden behind the crowds watching the Annual Summers Marathon and… well, the fucking terrorists did their job well, they spread terror. And killed some innocent people too.

And now I know one of them is Lucas's mom.

"…I see." Is all I manage. I'm not about to spout some 'I'm sorry' nonsense, I'm not the one who's sorry. Instead, I leave Lucas the stage.

"Mom took us vacationing there, and we managed to get a good place to watch the Marathon near the finish line. Next thing I remember was an explosion, and mass panic. Then I was being carried by mom as she ran out of there, whispering in ou… my ear, telling me we're gonna be fine. Then there was another explosion, and I blacked out. And woke up trapped under her bleeding dead body, with people all around running past us in blind panic, nobody even trying to help."

…the way he recounted his story was like a robot reading out a written script. No emotion whatsoever. Completely objective tone.

He's already long accepted what has happened. He's numbed his mind to it.

"And your dad?" I venture out.

"Dad wasn't with us at Summers. He didn't take the news too well." He scoffed. I repeat, _scoffed._ "He went into a violent fit when the police broke the news to him, almost landed himself in jail like a lunatic. Then you can guess what happened next. He spiraled down into depression, then he really lost it when… yeah, y'know, drinking, losing his job, all that go-."

"You're cutting out something."

He stiffens, falling into stony silence.

"There was somebody else with you and your mom in Summers." I state.

Nothing.

"Lucas, who's Claus?"

He takes a deep breath, and releases it in a shaky laugh.

"Wow, I must've really been drunk."

"No kidding. So who's Claus? Is he your brother or something?"

"...I need a cigarette." He suddenly stands up, and attempts to escape.

"No!" I shout as I spring up after him. I grab his arm and pull him back, and block the exit. "No more cigarettes! No more drinking! No more secrets!"

"Everyone's entitled to having secrets!" He counters. "It's part of being a person! It's not up to you to find out everything about everyone!"

He has a point. God I hate that. "Fine. Fair enough." I say, feeling a bit deflated. "But you understand where I'm coming from, right? The last secret you kept from me ended up with you passed out on our couch."

"I can take care of myself."

"I don't buy that. You smoke, you drink, you have a screwed up dad and an even more screwed up past. I don't buy the idea of you taking care of yourself at all."

His face contorts into an almost snarl, then suddenly I find myself pinned against my bedroom door with his hand grabbing my shit. Fuck, the kid's no pushover, I have to remind myself this is the guy who stood up to Fuel without batting an eye. Suddenly I'm face to face with the side of Lucas that's not holding back emotion.

"Stop talking about me like I'm some kind of fuck up!" He shouts to my face, his knuckles digging into my chest. "I lived through 16 years of life, haven't I? I'm not starving or sick on the streets or anything, am I? I'm doing well in school, aren't I? I don't need _you _after me all the time looking out for me!"

Oh, this ungrateful fucker… I pry his hands off me and push him forcefully away from me, feeling a sudden stab of anger.

"Fine! I won't look after you anymore! Good luck finding someone else out there that cares about you with your dead mom and deadbeat dad and the rest of the world that doesn't even know you fucking exist you good for nothing loner!"

…no, no, no, I didn't just say that. I did not just say that… oh fuck, what am I doing?

I look into his eyes, and I see the _hurt. _ I don't think I've ever felt like such an utterly horrible human being as I do right now.

It seems like now we're stuck in a moment where time just stops, and we're standing here facing each other, frozen in time, finding ourselves unable to move. We can't seem to see anything else but each other, or hear anything else but our ragged breathing. All we can do now is think about the consequences of what I had just said.

He moves first, and I flinch. I flinch because I deserve to be punched in the face until I pass out.

But when I open my eyes again, Lucas isn't giving me a new nose job with his fist, but he's sitting on the edge of my bed again, hands tucked between his thighs, downcast.

"You're right." He says. "I don't have anybody else."

And I don't think I've ever felt so bad about being right. I cautiously move towards him, and sit beside him.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say it like that." I mumble.

"…it's fine. It's the truth, nothing wrong with it."

I don't think it's healthy to feel this amount of guilt at once.

After a while, Lucas speaks again. "I promise I'll tell you about Claus when I'm ready, alright?"

I nod, putting an arm around his shoulders. He turns to me, and I couldn't be happier to see him smiling faintly at me.

"Let's get go work." He says, standing up and reaching for his bag.

I pause for a beat. "Wait."

He turns around with a raised eyebrow.

"I don't really feel like working today." I announce, standing up and stretching. "Let's go downstairs and hit the console. How good are you at shooting zombies?"

His look of surprise is almost amusing. "...what?"

"How good are you at shooting zombies?"

He turns to look at his half open bag. "Shouldn't we..."

"Ah, whatevs. We still got like a week to work on it. The apple drawings can wait. Now come on." I take the bag out of his hands, throw it in a corner, and drag him out of the room.

"Where're Tracy and your mom?" He asks.

"Out Boxing Day shopping, and trust me, you do not wanna get roped up with them during that. I'm gonna be by myself until after dinner."

I push him back on our couch and jam a controller into his hands. Then I load up the goriest and M-Rated-est game I can find, and flop down beside Lucas.

"After we finish dinner, I'm gonna show you why I'm known as the king of virtual baseball." I tell him as we wait for the game to load.

"Oh, erm… I don't think I can stay that long-."

"Too bad I wasn't asking for your permission."

I smirk at him.

A moment later, he returns that sentiment, smirking back.

"Now come on, let's blow some zombie heads!"

"That was an incredibly poor choice of words, Ness."

"Oh shut up."


	13. Good questions lead to more questions

I feel like I've been going through girlfriend withdrawal for the past few days. So after dropping off mom and Tracy in Twoson's Department Store (apparently Boxing Day lasts a week, nobody told me this), I drive over to the Polestar Daycare to see if I can sneak in some alone time with her. I think I have time to make the detour before going home to receive my project partner.

But when I step in their massive house, and am greeted with an enormous racket coming from kids that filled up the place like seagulls at a fish market, I'm beginning to think maybe our alone time isn't gonna happen. I can hear Paula's parents tending to the little brats, but so far no indication of where my girlfriend is.

I feel somebody grab my pant leg. I look down to see a freckly four year old looking up at me.

"Mistah, do you wanna come to owah tea pawty?"

"Oh, umm, that sounds nice, but I don't have tim-."

"TEA PAWTY!"

"Okay, okay!" I kneel down and put a hand over her mouth. "Just… don't scream, alright?"

And soon, I'm sitting awkwardly on a tiny stool at an equally tiny table, surrounded by noisy kids running around, while Freckles and her 3 stuffed animal friends pour imaginary tea into my cup. As you can imagine the dignity is practically streaming out of my body.

The kid starts introducing her stuffed animal friends. "This is Mistah Bunny… this is Mistah Snuggle Bear… and this is MISSUS PUNISHER."

…somebody help me.

"Missus Punisher wikes her tea with extwa sugar."

…please.

"Ness? 'S that you?"

I'm practically crying with happiness as I pick up Paula's distinct call through the rabble. I sent her a pleading look. She nods, coming up us.

"Hi Meredith, I need to take your friend away for now, okay?" Paula says sweetly to the freckly demon spawn.

"NO! TEA PAWTY!"

"You can find somebody else for your tea party, okay?" She calmly responds, not even batting an eye.

"…okay!"

"Thank you!" She smiles at the kid, then gestures her head for me to get up and go with her. No need to tell me twice.

She drags me upstairs, and as soon as we're sure nobody's peeking on us, we press up against each other start up some much needed kissing.

…again, I'm not giving out details, so, like, come back in a few moments, okay?

…

…

Alright, we're good.

"Missed ya, babe." I tell her, putting my mouth against her forehead as she hugs me.

"You too, Nessie."

"So why's the place so busy today?"

Paula exhales tiredly. "Oh, you know, parents who want to go Boxing Week shopping but don't want to bring their kids with them. It's a lot of work, but I'm okay with it, I love children. You, on the other hand…" She playfully pokes my chest.

"I barely have the capacity to deal with Tracy, never mind 6 dozen single digit age kids." I huff. "Besides, some of them are freakin' weird, like that girl I was with."

"Ah," she nods understandingly. "You've probably met Mrs. Punisher, then."

"Why Mrs. Punisher?"

"Probably because she's married to Mr. Destructor."

I stare at her. She shrugs. "All kids have different minds."

…I mean… is that really an excuse?

"Anyway, thanks for dropping by, hun." She smiles, reaching out and pinching both my cheeks hard. I pull away with a grimace, she knows I hate it when she tries to disfigure my face, that's precisely why she does it. "You're gonna have to come by some other day if you wanted alone time, though."

"Hey, who says I can't just drop by for a kindly hello?" I try.

"Oh please, all 16 year old boys like you think with your dicks."

"You have such a low opinion of me." I pout.

"Give me a break, if I had a low opinion of you, I'd have stopped dating you ages ago." She smiles, then starts ushering me down the stairs. "Either way, get out of here before daddy catches you distracting me from my work. I'll see you at the New Year's party."

I just remember something. "Wait, before I go."

"Hmm?"

"You've been hanging with Ninten a lot lately, right? So, like, how're things with him and Ana?" I haven't seen the guy since we silently ate burgers together that last day before winter break. But Paula has, quite often too, according to her texts.

Paula lets loose an aggravated sigh. "I don't even want to talk about Ana. That girl can just do whatever the hell she wants, I don't even care anymore."

It's pretty transparent that Paula's still upset over her BFF going AWOL, only now she's expressing it with indifferent anger. There's no way that she doesn't care anymore about Ana, they were as close as best friends could be.

But trying to point that out would only promote more denial and anger out of Paula, so I leave it.

"And Ninten? How's he dealing?" I ask.

"…he's dealing with it extremely well." She discloses.

"He is?"

"Yeah. I'm worried too."

It's definitely cause for worry, mainly because Ninten's attitude towards this whole thing doesn't make sense. You can't just have such a close relationship with a girlfriend, then abruptly split and seem so nonchalant and carefree afterward. It'd be like having both your arms cut off, then the next day tell everyone you're completely nonplussed and everything's normal.

"So what do you think?" I inquire.

"I think…" She stops, leaning on one leg and crossing her arms, a gesture meaning that I'm not gonna like hearing what she's thinking.

"Yeah?" I press.

"…I think that their breakup and Ana's leaving might have been something we should've seen coming."

"What?" I exclaim. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, judging by the way Ninten's been talking abou-."

"PAULA, HONEY? CAN YOU GIVE US A HAND HERE?" Mr. Polestar shouts from downstairs over the kids' yells.

"COMING DADDY!" She gives me an apologetic look. "Sorry babe, I'm needed. See if you can talk to Ninten. Bye." She gives me a quick reprieving peck on the lips, then rushes off to herd the children.

-01210-

Maybe I shouldn't think this hard and drive at the same time, I almost ran over some old lady crossing at a stop sign.

But I can't help it. Fucking Ninten and Ana. Those two are giving me headaches. Why couldn't it have been some other random couple in school? Of course not, it had to be between my best friend and his girlfriend. It had to be somebody I care about.

Pulling up to my driveway, my eyes are drawn to a gleaming black Classic Corvette parked on the curb of our property, doing a very good job of making my ride look like scrapyard bait.

That's Ninten's car. The plate reads 'M AND M', a shout out to his sisters. Or candy. Who knows.

We, Ninten and I, have a habit of just showing up unannounced at each other's homes whenever we feel like screwing around together. We even have spare keys to the other's house. That's the extent of trust we have with each other. Since I don't see him sitting on our doorstep, he's probably already invited himself inside. Though it's a bit odd that he hasn't called me yet. He usually at least does that if nobody's home, and asks for permission to enter first.

Hmm… this is a pleasant coincidence. He's already at my house, all ready for questioning.

That sounded creepy.

I park my car, take a few more moments to drool at Ninten's sleek, sweet ride, and unlock my front door.

"THAT'S BULLSHIT!" I'm startled by Ninten's voice as soon as I enter. Kicking off my shoes worriedly, I run towards the voice, and come across a rather unexpected scene.

"How did you headshot me from that far away!?" Ninten yells at a familiar skinny blond sitting beside him on the couch, both of them with controllers in their hands, the TV lighting up with my favourite shooter. Lucas merely shrugs modestly in response.

They simultaneously turn and notice me.

"…I see you two have met." I say, slightly amused.

-01210-

Around 10 minutes after I decided to join their game, both Ninten and I are sitting with our mouths scraping the floor, staring disbelievingly at the score the screen's displaying. Surely it can't be true, I refuse to accept that I just got my shit pushed in hard at my favourite shooter. I've spent countless hours slaving away on this game, honing my aim, perfecting my shots, ranking up to a godlike level.

Then fucking Lucas just comes along and crushes my soul.

Ninten's not faring better, he got annihilated as badly as me. "Dude, this kid just went HAM on us." He utters to me.

"No kidding, when we were shooting zombies the other day, he got the highest score I've ever seen someone reach. Lucas, how are you so good at video games you nerd?" I demand.

"A guy like me has plenty of time to waste on this kind of stuff." He says with a slight smirk, a slight smirk that means he's suppressing his urge to showboat, the bastard.

"…well, there goes my delusion that I was actually good at this game." Ninten dismisses, leaning back on the couch in defeat. He turns to Lucas, who's sitting between us. "Good game, kid."

"Lucas will do." He tells him. "Thanks… Ninten, right?"

"Yeah, that's me. I know we look alike, but try not to get me confused with this fool over here." He tilts his head over at me.

"You're lucky to be sharing the looks of someone as handsome as I am." I reply dryly. "…well, sharing isn't the right word. You're only _almost_ as sexy as I am, more like a cheap knock-off."

"You're as sexy as a school bus fire."

"It's okay, I'm not interested in knowing another guy's opinion of my sex appeal."

"Okay, chill out there Mr. Fabulous."

Ninten and I exchange shit eating grins. It's good to be around him again. That old saying is true: friends are kind to each other, but best friend are complete dicks to each other.

"So how've you been, man?" I ask.

"Not bad. Christmas was fun. Uncle Giegue broke the lamp in my room when he was playing around with the twins. I swear that man is the klutziest, but he's such a hilarious guy to be around."

"The twins?" Lucas inquires out of nowhere.

Ninten nods. "Yeah, my twin baby sisters, Mimmie and Minnie. They're cool, when they're not trying finger paint all my stuff."

"I see." Lucas mutters, and falls silent again, staring passively at the TV. Ninten and I trade slightly bemused looks.

Now's a good chance to bring up Ana. But how shall I approach this… maybe I ought to take some of Paula's advice and try to ease my way into the subject… but how the hell do I do that? Oh, whatever, I'm going the direct route.

No wait, I can't. Lucas is sitting right here. I don't really want him listening in on this, and Ninten sure as hell won't say anything with him here. Damn… I guess I can ask him to leave us alone for a while, but that might just make him curious, and maybe promote him to eavesdrop… is Lucas the 'Nana' kind of person? Hell I don't know…

"Dude, you're spacing out." Ninten breaks my train of thought. "What're you thinking about?"

"Oh, erm… I'm fine." I say, flashing a quick look at Lucas, wondering if I should ask him to leave.

Lucas makes eye contact with me for a split second.

Then he stands up. "I'm gonna have a cigarette." He says, walking towards the door.

"Cigarette? Lucas, you smoke?" Ninten asks, eyes narrowing.

He shrugs, then walks on out, leaving both of us looking at the front door with surprised expressions.

…was that a coincidence? Or did he read me? Either way, Lucas is proving that he's always in tune with the people around him.

"That kid's weird." Ninten comments. "Nice, but weird."

"Not so much weird as… problem-y." I say, probably unhelpfully.

We lapse into silence.

"…so dude."

"Yeah?"

"Did Ana send you a Merry Christmas text or something?"

Ninten groans tiredly. "You're never gonna let it go unless you get a satisfying explanation from me, are you?"

"I don't get it. Why are you keeping things under wraps anyway? You should know that you can trust us to not judge you. We just want to know why you guys broke it off. And why you seemed so fine with Ana going back to Snowman."

"Ness I know you're worried, but trust me when I say that I'm past this. This is normal, relationships come and go, and it's just unfortunate that ours ended, as perfect as we may have seemed to you."

I scrutinize his expression for hints, but get nothing. No hints that he's lying, or anything really.

"Then why did Ana decide to just pack up for Snowman?"

"Who knows. Ask her."

"I'm asking you."

Ninten stares at me with that cool face of his, and suddenly I feel like _I'm_ the one under scrutiny. It's weird, we look at each other all the time, but it has never felt this… unnatural before.

"Ness, just let this go." He says after a while.

"I won't." I stubbornly say back. "It's clear that you were upset when she left, but then you-."

"Well I'm not upset anymore, so lay off."

"But it's not just about you, is it?" I raise my voice sternly. "Ana's Paula's best friend, and my friend, and a whole lot of other people's friend as well, and when she left we weren't exactly unaffected. The least you can do is shed some light on why she made that decision."

Ninten's looking not the happiest, being put on the spot right now. I know I'm getting under his skin, but he knows that I'm right to ask. In a way I'm getting a sort of guilty satisfaction from this, knowing that his uncomfortable reaction means that Ana still does mean something to him, and I'd rather him show what he's feeling rather than sealing them behind an uncaring face.

"…I guess Ana just felt like she couldn't contentedly live here with me anymore." He says, and I get the impression that he's choosing his words carefully. "I didn't want her to leave, I really didn't, but I feel like I understand why she did, so I didn't stop her."

"Wait, what do you mean by that?" I frown.

"Exactly what I said, Ness." He says, nearly impatient. "Now can we please stop talking about this? I know you're worried about me, but you don't have to be if I say I'm _fine, _alright?"

"…fine." I concede, though none too happily. "But one last question."

"Uh huh?"

"Paula said that she thinks your breakup was something we should've seen coming… should we have?"

"Who knows. If you think so, go ask your girlfriend about it. Now let's drop the subject."

The way he said that last sentence sends me on edge. There's a certain… spiteful quality behind it. Also, Ninten has never referred to Paula as 'my girlfriend' before, it's almost rude, considering how close he is personally with her and myself. The fact that he just did makes me think that… perhaps…

Maybe me and Paula's relationship is more of a variable in their breakup than I'd thought…?

Ninten starts up another round, and soon I'm drawn in by the virtual war game assaulting my senses from the TV. But a new and alien feeling of discomfort between him and I is practically tangible. And truthfully, I'm apprehensive of its implications.

-01210-

"Hey."

"Yeah?"

"Do Lucas's smoke breaks usually take 10 minutes?"

…shit. Kinda lost my mind in the game. I jump off my couch and head for the door, with Ninten trailing me. What's holding him up?

I open the front door.

…oh. That's what.

In the left corner, standing slightly taller than me, weighing in at probably less than 120 pounds, we have the defending champion, Lucas.

And in the right corner, standing 5 foot 11, weighing at around 140 pounds, we have the vengeful challenger… Fuel.

…fuck.

They're doing their usual routine of staring each other down. Fuel, probably thinking about how many pieces he's gonna tear Lucas into. Lucas… who knows, I've learned to not even try to guess what's going on in his head. Either way, they're so focused on the other that they haven't even noticed us yet.

Just what exactly is their problem?

"Fuel!" I shout. That gets both their attentions. "Dude, what's up?"

Fuel's face breaks from a pissed off growl to a jubilant grin as he answers me. "My fireworks, hopefully! Just coming to check that we're still firing 'em on New Years! Ninten! Dude, your ride's looking sweet as ever you wealthy bastard!"

Ninten shakes his head, grinning, and I can't hold mine back either. Seems Fuel's as sparky as ever, as he bounces over to us and almost knocks us over with bear hugs.

Then he almost comically replaces the grin with an overly serious face as he puts two hands on Ninten's shoulders and leans toward him. "Dude, heard about Ana. You gonna be okay?" He says in a quiet but extremely dramatic voice.

"Don't worry, I'll be fine." Ninten answers with a laugh. "Besides, Ness had already grilled me for info."

"Glad to hear it!" Fuel pats his shoulders. "And glad to hear you're as nosy as ever." He directs at me.

"What the hell do you mean by that?" I demand.

"Your nose." Fuel presses my nose with a finger. "It jabs into others' businesses."

Growling, I grab his offending hand and forcefully twist it, earning a playful yelp of pain from him. I'm not nosy. I'm not. Seriously.

"Okay, okay! Like, stop raping my hand!" Fuel yanks his arm from my grip. "I'll need it for New Year's Midnight, during which I shall set fire to Onett with my beautiful sparkling creations."

I shake my head with a smile. Fuel's obsession with fireworks is really something. "Think you can beat last year's?" I ask.

"You insult me, sir Ness!" Fuel clutches his chest for added effect. "Worry not your pretty little head, I shall awe this town with a light show the likes of which this world has never seen!"

Glad to see the winter cold hasn't chilled Fuel's high spirits. But I feel like today he being more hyper than usual, he's practically bouncing in front of us, chatting non stop. On top of that, he seems to be acting out in an overly friendly way that demands our attention, making sure our looks don't stray from him for more than a few moments. Did he have too much coffee today or something…

Then it hits me. Fuel's purposely trying to make the relationship between the three of us stand out. He's incessant and overly friendly chatter is all to (needlessly) showcase that he's one of our best buddies.

And he's doing all this because Lucas is watching.

"…tually got Poo to come with us this year, which is awesome since that Dalaamian dude has the sickest stash of Oriental gunpowder just sitting in his house." Fuel jabbers on excitedly. "I'm gonna mix it in to my usual powder and see if the results satisfy me. What do ya think, Nessie boy?"

"Sounds like a blast." I reply, trying to peer around Fuel and see what Lucas is doing.

"I'm gonna rip out your throat for that pun later." Ninten tells me acridly.

...I didn't even realize I made one until now.

"Cool! So dudes, you busy or somethin'? Or am I allowed to come in to shoot some zombies?" Fuel asks, though he's already moving himself to our front door.

Ninten and I glance at each other, then over to Lucas, who had propped himself against a street light pole, hands in pockets, looking out over the road, appearing completely unmindful of our conversations. Ninten shrugs at me, giving me the final decision to make.

"Yeah, sure." I say to Fuel, then turn over to Lucas. "Hey! Lucas, you comin'?"

Lucas hears me and starts walking over. Fuel's footsteps freeze.

"Uhh, Ness? What is that kid doing here?" He asks in a low tone.

"He's my Art project partner, remember?" I keep my tone as neutral as possible, as Lucas stops beside me.

"Right, how could I forget…" Fuel mutters. "Well, you gonna work on your nerdy art drawings now, or can I come in and shoot some zombies first?"

"Sure, if you want. I got enough controllers for the 4 of us."

Fuel's mouth twitches in something like a grimace. He's clearly not liking how I'm including Lucas into his suggestion. Right now he's glaring hostilely at the blond, and Lucas is silently gazing back. Ninten and I share another worried look, feeling like we're caught in the middle of a cold war or something.

Suddenly Lucas breaks the silence. "I'm gonna get going Ness, I'll see you-."

"No. Don't bother." Fuel speaks over him, voice icy. "I'll see you guys later. Have fun with your drawings or what the fuck ever."

And with that, he sweeps past me and Lucas, walking away from our front yard.

Indecision freezes me for a second, then I chase after Fuel. "Dude, hold on."

He looks back at me with a much less enthusiastic smile. "Just remember that the moment you're done with your project, he's my punching bag. Talk to ya later, Ness."

The finality in his tone stops me from catching up, and I watch him walk off into the distance.

…I get the feeling that I may have unwittingly made Fuel feel like I betrayed him.

-01210-

"You're gonna tell us what's going on between the two of you right now." I demand of Lucas, who's sitting on the couch with Ninten and me standing over him.

"Ask him, not me." He grumbles.

"You're here right now."

"He was here a minute ago, why didn't you ask him then?"

Over the past few days of spending so much time with Lucas, I've adapted myself to pick up the tiniest bits of sentiment that gets past the impassiveness filter of his voice. And right now I'm picking up anger tinted with… jealousy.

"Don't bitch at me, dude. All I want to know is what the fuck's going on. I don't think I'll be able to handle you and Fuel's slap fights for the rest of the year."

If you can call pounding the blood out of each other a slap fight, that is.

"Trust me, I don't want to be at war with him, I just want to be left alone." He says quietly.

I can attest to that, based solely on what I've come to learn about him. But I have nothing else to work with. Neither Fuel nor Lucas seem interested in telling much, and it's getting really frustrating knowing the school's a landmine waiting to be triggered every time they meet.

"Lucas." Ninten suddenly pipes up. We both turn our attentions to him. "You know why we're prying you instead of Fuel?"

"Because it's much easier to interrogate me rather than your friend." He answers without hesitation.

Ouch.

"It's true." Ninten nods. "Fuel's an annoying, hyperactive Energizer Hamster, but also one of my best buddies. And therefore if there's something bothering him, it's up to us," he gestures his head at me, "to find out what's wrong. In this case, the dispute you two are sharing. And you're absolutely right. We have much less to lose in interrogating you about it rather than Fuel."

Double ouch.

"But…" He pauses. "Fuel's also kind of a dick at times, and a hell of a hothead. If there's a fight, he probably started it. You don't seem like that kind of person though."

Lucas raises an eyebrow.

Ninten shrugs. "I don't see it in you, you genuinely seem like a nice, chill kind of guy. And by the looks of things, Ness is fond of you."

…how do people come to conclusions about me so quickly? God, I am like, the opposite of discreet.

"So. Bottom line is, if it's something stupid and trivial, like, oh he pissed you off and you punched him in the face and now you're at war, just tell us what happened so we can talk to Fuel and be done with this thing. If it goes beyond that, like you're holding grudges against each other for something in the past, well, I guess that depends on what exactly had happened, but it would still be better to tell us, so we can try to get Fuel off your back. Alright?"

Ninten's a really effective arbitrator, I have to say. Only he can maintain a cool head and think on both sides like this.

Lucas lets out a slow breath. "Well, you got one thing right." He mutters dully. "Fuel can hold one hell of a grudge."

He doesn't continue, so Ninten prompts him. "Wanna tell us more?"

"Sorry Ninten, but… I don't really wanna say any more."

"Why not?" There's an obvious bit of impatience in Ninten's voice. "You realize we're trying to help you here, right?"

"Lucas." I speak up.

They both turn their heads to me.

"Are you originally from this town?"

"No."

"When did you come here?"

"When I was 12, around 2009."

Ninten's breathing hitches. It seems like we're thinking the same thing. 2009 is also when Fuel moved to Onett.

"And how long have you known Fuel?"

"…ever since I was a little kid." He answers.

We look straight at each other silently, stilly, trading nothing but eye contact.

I understand now. While I always had suspected that Lucas and Fuel's relationship went deeper than just a fist fight, now I realize that it may be intertwined with Lucas's crazy and troubled past.

A past that he has reservations about sharing.

"Okay then." I say. "If you don't wanna talk now, fine. Just remember we're here if you do ever come around, 'kay?"

Ninten frowns quizzically at me, while Lucas lets out a small smile.

"Thanks for understanding."

"Yeah well, it'd be easier to understand you if you'd stop fucking holding everything in." I smirked, stepping up to put a hand on his head and mess up his hair. He ducks out of the way, shooting me an annoyed look.

Though right now, I'm more inquisitive than ever. How does Fuel come into play in Lucas's past? All I really know is that his mom died, and subsequently his dad turned into a negligent mess, which caused all of Lucas's fucked up habits. Fuel's involvement could be completely unrelated to all that, but I get the strong feeling it isn't. Well, I don't have all the pieces yet. I still don't know who exactly Claus is… though I wonder if Fuel does…

"You seem to know what's going on." Ninten states to me, knocking me out of my thoughts.

I shake my head. "Not at all. Seriously, I have no clue."

"…whatever." He says, going up to my TV to restart the game console.

"Y'know, I like how you called Fuel a hothead and all that, when he was the one that had to stop you from raging and beating up that kid back then." I say, grinning toothily.

"And you're not exactly the most calm and collected person either, are you Ness?" He retorts, coming back and plopping down on the sofa with controller in hand.

"Maybe we're just all just mindless hotheads." I deduce, sitting down as well. "Good thing we have Lucas here to calm things down." I elbow him.

"I was never the hotheaded one of my family." Lucas softly responds, staring at the flashing TV.

-01210-

After a while, we get bored of Lucas dominating every single match, and decide to retreat to and relax in my bedroom. Lucas takes out his sketchbook and starts on another random drawing. I'm dimly aware that we still have Art to work on, but hey, if there's anything I can get an A plus in, its procrastinating.

"Hey, let me take a look?"

Lucas nods, handing the book to Ninten.

"Wow, these are some pretty sick drawings, Luke." Ninten whistles as he flips through the sketchbook.

"Luke?" Both of us question at the same time.

"Is Luke fine? Sorry, I'm so used to hanging out with dudes who only have one syllable in their names."

…wow, that's actually true.

"…Luke's fine." He says as Ninten hands his archive of drawing back to him.

"Well, looks like you're gonna have to carry Ness through this project, buddy." Ninten quips, resting an arm on 'Luke's' shoulder. "He can't draw anything that doesn't resemble shit."

"You're not exactly Michelangelo either." I fire back, sitting cross legged on my bed. "Remember when you tried to draw a turtle and everyone thought it was a retarded igloo?"

"Hey, I'm not the one who picked Art."

"That's 'cause you swiped the last spot for Music, you dick."

"How's that my fault? I though you had already signed up for Music."

"It is your fault! You should know I'd leave something as important as that to the last second!"

Ninten cracks up, and I even see Lucas look up from his drawing and smile at me for a second.

"Well don't worry, Music isn't all it's hyped up to be. Damn teacher always assigns so much written work, freaking research papers about our favourite classical composer and stupid stuff like that. It's like he assumes all of us were born 300 years ago or something."

"Wow, that sucks. Maybe it's God's way of compensating for such an awesome subject. Y'know, balance out the guitar shredding with a bit of essay writing."

"I don't think God concerns himself with things like that, dude." Ninten chuckles.

"How do you know? God does whatever the hel- erm, heck He wants. You don't know what the Dude's thinking."

"I can believe He probably doesn't spend the effort balancing out school subjects' awesomeness ratings like you say."

I laugh at that, then decide sitting's too much work and fall back, laying on my soft bed. We let the room fall silent, save for Lucas's pencil scribbling as he draws down whatever's inspiring him right now. I'm hoping it's not another Horsantula.

"Hey guys?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think there really is a God?" I wonder out loud, gazing at the white ceiling as if someone's watching me back through it.

"Yes, I'd say so." Ninten answers with very little hesitation.

"Are you just saying that because of outside influence, or is that what you actually believe?" Of course, the most significant of that influence being Ana and her family. Her parents are some of the strictest Catholics I've ever met, so I feel they must've had some influence on their daughter's boyfriend… excuse me, _'mutual partner'_.

"No, it's pretty much my own thoughts." Ninten says, leaning back against a wall. "Because the world is just so amazing as it is right now, so… well thought out, that I feel like it can't just be the work of nature. And humans, of course. We're so different from the rest of the earth, and our ability to think and act like we do, I feel like it can't just be evolution that made us like this. So, yeah. I think God's pretty real, even if we can't ever prove it."

That was surprisingly deep. Well, if there's ever an enlightened one among my friends, it's Ninten.

"But are you just using God as a convenient excuse for the things we can't explain?" I challenge casually.

"I think eventually the things we can't explain now will be explained in the future. But that doesn't mean we've disproven God. Besides, there will always be something that we don't know, but that knowledge still exists, and I think God's the one who holds it. Like an explanation for explanations, if you get what I mean."

I nod.

"But that doesn't mean I'm super religious or anything." Ninten adds. "I'm not gonna live my life dedicated to what the churches think pleases God, or will get me sent to Heaven or whatever. I don't really believe that stuff, because people are dumb for thinking they'd ever understand what God wants. It'd be like ants trying to think on our level, it doesn't work like that.

"And you, Ness? What do you think?"

"Agnostic." I simply state. "And I doubt that's ever gonna change."

Ninten hums understandingly.

"What about you Lucas?" I ask, looking over at the blond, who seems too engrossed in his drawing to have heard our conversation.

But turns out, he's listening. "I don't believe in _religion_." He says.

"What do you mean?" Ninten asks interestedly.

"Personally, I think there's no difference in thinking whether God exists or not." Lucas conveys, turning to face us. "There's no way to prove either. But I don't buy any of the stuff religion tries to pass off to you. To me, it's really arrogant for those people to think they're acting on divine will. Like Ninten said, trying to think like God is like ants trying to think like us. For all we know, the ants in the backyard could be praying to Ness right now, but you'd never notice, even if you're studying them through a magnifying glass.

"But religion tries to preach things like, those who are kind and free of sin prosper and live happy, carefree lives, and those who wear lip piercings die and go to Hell, and all that good stuff. Realistically, it's all bullshit. Good, kind, caring, sin free people suffer all the time to unjust things, and horrible people live whole, happy, fulfilling lives as their loathsome selves. After all, would you know if that ant you just stepped on was a good ant or bad ant? I think faith in religion, and to something like God, is utterly pointless."

Awed silence fills the room after Lucas's rant.

I'm not sure what to make of that, really. That was so dark and brooding and blasphemous, and… I kind of agree. It makes a lot of sense, especially to an agnostic like me. Wait, does agreeing with that mean I'm going to Hell?

"It's interesting that you think that, Luke." Ninten breaks the silence.

"Why?"

"There are many good people who have experienced such horrible things in their life, that it becomes easier for them to just renounce their faith rather than believe that God would let those horrible things happen to them. And they go on to live the rest of their lives with the unshakable belief that there is no such thing as divine justice, that everyone else who are still faithful are fools."

I see Lucas stiffen. Ninten's bold deduction hits home with force, and now I'm anxiously anticipating what kind of reaction Lucas will make.

"…you're a smart man, Ninten." A small, non hostile smile appears on Lucas's face.

"Not so much smart as observant." Ninten says. "But I can't help but be curious now."

"If you really want to know, ask Ness. He's already pried some info me."

They both turn to look at me with annoying grins. "Well, he is known to be nosy." Ninten says.

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" I shoot back.

"Nothin'."

Seriously, what the fuck? I'm not nosy, I just like to be informed, that's all. Really. Not nosy.

"Well, either way. If you ever feel like talking, I'll be listening, alright Luke?" Ninten says with bona fide kindness. Then he formally extends a fist at Lucas.

Lucas nods, taking out his own closed hand, and they fist bump.

Not gonna lie, that was touching.

But seriously. How am I nosy?

-01210-

"Hey, Ness. Check out what I found."

I look over to see Ninten pull out a rather large, hardcover book-like thing out from under my bed. Huh? How long has that been there? What is it anyway?

"I think it's a photo book." He says, cracking open the dusty cover.

Oh yeah… I forgot that was there. Mom's always had an obsession with preserving every possible moment with a photo that she deems would bring back the fondest of memories. Aka, every single possible moment ever. She keeps the giant collection of pictures in the textbook like album Ninten's holding now, and she stores it in my room in case I ever want to relive the memories. Needless to say, I've touched the album maybe once in the last decade.

"Dude, put that away," I groan. "It's probably full of dumb pictures of me n' Tracy doing random things."

"Well, you're half right, but there're some pretty cool ones too." Ninten remarks, scanning through the pages. "Like this one, I think that's you and Paula, back when you first met?"

That peaks my attention. I roll off my bed and go over to look at the album, and sure enough, there's a photo of past me and Paula, back when she still lived in Twoson. Damn, mom's sneakier than I thought with her camera, I don't recall at all when this photo was taken.

"Yeah, that was us in front of her old home in Twoson. Wow, I almost forgot she used to tie her hair with that stupid bow." I can't get over how… young we look, how immature.

"Hey, is that the same stuffed bear she still has right now?" Ninten asks, pointing to another picture. One where Paula was hugging an oversized toy in front of her.

"I think it is." I squint. "But I don't know, man. She's got like, hundreds of those toy bears hidden around her house."

Ninten flips the pages, and we travel back in time a bit, looking at sets of pictures of an even younger me in various settings, doing all kinds of stupid things. I'm so glad that it's Ninten and not anybody else looking through the album, he's the only one mature enough to resist making stupid jokes about them.

"Is that the same kid I met the other day?" A voice comes from Ninten's opposite side. Lucas had apparently joined in at some point, browsing with us through the album.

I look over to see who he's talking about. "Oh, yeah that's Pokey. We used to be cool, and hung out a lot. I was so naïve back then." But past me didn't seem to care, since he's beaming widely with an arm around past Pokey's shoulder.

"And that's… Tracy right?"

"Yeah, back when she didn't put makeup on every part of her face." I sigh. Tracy looked a lot better back then, when all she wore was that pull up dress and bow on her head. So much more natural.

We continue to flip back, scouting through old birthdays, old Christmases, old vacations, a lot of me and past Tracy together, even the occasional past Ninten would show up.

It's a strange sensation, looking at your old self in all these still shots. But it's definitely opening a floodgate of awesome memories. I'm almost overwhelmed by a sense of warm nostalgia as I recalled how happy I was back then, not a worry in the world, where I'd go to sleep every day wondering what shenanigans I'd pull with my friends tomorrow… being a kid was great, I miss those days…

…geez, I'm actually fighting back some tears. Damn it, why does mom always have to be right…

"Dude, looks like you had it pretty nice." Ninten says, closing the album back up.

"Wait, don't put it away yet."

"Why? We don't feel like stalking your childhood anymore."

"No, just let me…" I take the book from him, flip to the pages near the end, and slip out some pictures of baby Tracy. "…there we go. Blackmail material. Hey, don't roll your eyes, you'd have done the same thing with your sisters."

"How come there aren't any baby pictures of you, Ness?" Lucas asks.

"What are you talking 'bout, there right…" Oh wait. He's right, there don't seem to be any baby pictures of me. In fact, there don't seem to be any pictures of me under the age of 5… that's kinda odd.

"Hey, you're right. No baby Ness." Ninten hums thoughtfully.

"That's a good thing." I mutter. "The last thing I need is you two assholes laughing it up at me in diapers."

"So why did your mom put baby photos of your sister in here and not you?"

Good question. It's not like this massive album is lacking space for more photos. Wait, shouldn't I be glad there aren't any stupid pictures of toddler me hanging around, waiting to be dug up at an inopportune time to embarrass me?

"Who knows. Now let's move this conversation away before I call the cops to arrest you two pedophiles."

So we do. We move the conversation to the topic that's only natural for 16 year old boys to go to.

"Dude, what's your best pick-up line?" I quiz Ninten.

Ninten glowers at me. "I'm not stupid enough to attempt pick up lines. Besides, if I ever get a chick to go out with me with a cheesy one liner, I don't think that chick will be my ideal girlfriend."

I hold up my hands in a surrender like fashion. "Whoa, okay, calm down there Mr. Dignified. I'm just speaking hypothetically."

He chuckles. "Well, Fuel taught me this one. If I had a nickel for every time I saw someone as beautiful as you, I'd have five cents."

"Woooow." I laugh. "Only fucking Fuel would come up with something like that."

"I know right. Okay, what about you? What have you got?"

"Plenty. For example. You should stop wearing makeup, it's messing with perfection."

"I remember one. If you were words on a page, you'd be the fine print."

"Baby, do you have a map? I'm getting lost in your eyes."

"I think I'm gonna get going before the two of you start fucking each other." Lucas abruptly announces, sliding his sketchbook back in his bag.

"Okay dude, we'll stop." I say, sniggering.

"Either way, I have to leave now, I need to go shopping for some stuff before I get home tonight."

"I'll give you a ride to the store if you want." Ninten announces, joining him by the door. "I think now's a good time for me to get going too."

"Wait what?" I stand up. "How come you're offering him a ride but you never give me one?"

He gives me a _look._ "Because I have a feeling Luke's not gonna spill soda all over my car."

God, you make one small slip of the hand, and he'll never let you forget it. Granted I might have been pre-warned to not bring sodas into the car, and the spill might've shorted out his radio and created a stain that took ages to scrub out, but that's beside the point.

"It's okay, you don't have to drive me…" Lucas says softly.

But all that earns him is an annoyed glare from Ninten. "Kid, I'm offering you a good thing here. Not many have the privilege of riding in a mint condition 1960's Stingray."

"…thanks then."

"No problem." Ninten slaps him on the back lightheartedly. "Alright, we're gonna get going then. Peace out, Ness."

"Hey, hold on."

"Yeah?"

"Lucas, what's your best pick up line?" I ask snidely.

"Does this cloth smell like chloroform to you. Later Ness."

Lucas strolls down the stairs, leaving me and Ninten gaping in his wake.

"Dude… you've found yourself a pretty neat project partner." Ninten concludes, shaking his head, the corner of his mouth upturned. "Alright, I'll see you New Year's. Later bro."

"Yeah… later." I return rather absentmindedly, and he jogs downstairs and out of my home.

As soon as I hear my front door slam I suddenly remember I wanted to scrutinize Ninten a bit more about him and Ana.

...freakin' Lucas…

-01210-

I can't dispel the feeling of unease.

It's not just the fact that there weren't baby pictures of me in the album, it's more that I can't recall any memories of myself younger than around 5 years old.

I know that everybody's memories of themselves at that age should be a bit fuzzy, but at least they have them. Me… nothing. Literally the farthest thing back I can remember is me in this house, with a younger mom and toddler Tracy, and my room looking drastically different from now.

I had never worried about this before today, because I'd assume I was always just… here. But how can I know that I was here if I don't have any baby pictures to prove it?

I take a deep breath. I'm probably just being paranoid.

But why am I uneasy…?

I creak open the door to mom (and dad)'s bedroom. It's completely unnecessary to open it so gingerly and quietly since the other residents of the house are wasting money in Twoson right now. But an instinctive unwillingness to do things to upset mom is slowing me, since sneaking into her room and searching through her stuff will probably upset her.

The bedroom is dark, as the lights and blinds are shut. The neatly made queen sized bed takes up most of the space in the middle, and some spare drawers and nightstands take up the rest. The thick, burgundy carpet is uncluttered and well vacuumed.

It's an improvement from my room, that's for sure.

Okay… what am I looking for… Documentation. Birth certificate, Social Insurance cards, Passports, spare baby photos, anything that can relieve the doubt in my mind, maybe even jog the ol' memory department.

...holy shit, they're right. I am fucking nosy as fuck.

But I quickly find out that mom has locks on all her drawers and even the closet. I guess she plays it safe whenever she's not at home.

Well this went well. Fuck it, I'm being completely irrational. I'll ask mom about it later, she'll show me a birth certificate, probably recount some unnecessary and wholly unsettling tales of taking care of me as a baby, and that will be that. Irrational worry gone.

On my way out though, I follow my gut instinct to check under the bed.

Well what do you know, mom keeps a photo album under her bed as well. I crack it open. This one has all the wedding photos with dad, and others of my parents when they were young and robust, before married life and taking care of kids sapped them of their free will.

And then I spot a small detail that makes that feeling of unease lurch painfully inside of me.

My dad without a wig.

He apparently is a natural blond, as shown by his various University graduation and wedding photos, where he's smiling with a head full of cropped, almost platinum hair.

…is it normal for two blondes to have a black haired child?


	14. New Year's and nightmares

I pull off the cap of a black marker, and check off December 29th, 2013 on my calendar. Then I step back and look at the page already dotted with black marks on each space, occasionally coupled with a few notes on important days. I'm getting really close to needing to pull out a new calendar.

I sigh tiredly, then head off to the bathroom. Last night I had another nightmare attack, one of the worse ones I've had in a long time, resulting in me unable to fall asleep again that whole night, up until this moment. When I check myself in the mirror in front of the vanity, seeing the image of my baggy bloodshot eyes and disheveled hair, I feel a sudden surge of frustration and anger, and almost punch the mirror.

I really hate myself sometimes. For having this stupid, inexplicable crutch in my life.

Mom greets me when I reach the bottom of the stairs. "Good morning, sweetie!"

"No, it's not." I intone. For some reason, hearing mom's overly cheery voice is kind of annoying me. Well, she's supposed to be cheery, she's not the one who pulled an unwanted all-nighter.

"Oh dear, not another one…" Mom says worriedly, pulling me into a hug.

"Mom… mom let go." I mutter. When she doesn't, I feel another spurt of anger well up. "Mom, let go of me!"

She releases me. "Okay, I get it, boys your age feel embarrassed whenever your moms show affection."

That's not really it. I just hate it when she treats me like some kind of special needs kid whenever I she sees I had a nightmare. I don't need that crap, what I need is a damn solution to my problem, not babying kisses every time the problem comes up!

"I have breakfast coming, did you wash up yet?"

"I'm not hungry." I say, walking to the closet.

"Honey, I know you're feeling tired, but you need to eat someth-."

"I don't want to." I interrupt flatly. I pull out my leather jacket and drape it over myself, and step into a pair of running shoes. "I'm going out."

"Where are you going?" Mom's voice starts to lose gentleness.

I don't answer her, I pull open the door and step out.

"Ness, you tell me right now wh-." I shut the door.

I sigh, I'm probably gonna get it real loud later for that. I actually don't have any destination in mind, I just felt like leaving the house, away from mom's incessant nagging. I don't know, I'm just really unhappy with her today…

I begin walking, going wherever my feet feel like taking me. God, it's so damn bright out, my eyes are already sore from being open all night, and now I have the goddamn sun laying siege on my retinas. But at the same time, winter makes it so balls-shrinkingly cold that I'm shivering inside my 10 ton leather jacket. Stupid weather never makes any damn sense.

I end up sitting on an icy park bench a few blocks away from my street, watching the scenery around me.

Across the park I can see the highest point of elevation in Onett. That's Meteor Hill, where we'll be hosting our New Year's gathering and letting Fuel set himself on fire with his homemade IEDs. I wonder if a meteorite actually did land there… don't those things create, like, massive craters? Not _hills_? And how come I've never actually any seen evidence of where it landed or heard mention of it from anybody else in Onett?

It's probably just some fabricated story. A lie.

Lie…

Why does it seem like everyone's lying to me these days?

No, not necessarily lying. Keeping things from me. Hiding truths from me. Stowing secrets away and dangling the clues to its location in my face.

I can hear the counterargument in my head now, specifically in Lucas's voice: 'It's not your place to know everyone's secrets, Ness.'

Fine. Be like that. Clamp down like the insecure babies you are, and remember that one day if you do decide to open up, I will no longer be interested in hearing what you have to say.

…what the hell's wrong with me?

I shake my head vigorously, screwing my eyes shut very tightly, then opening them back up again, trying to clear my mind. I peel my ass off the freezing park bench and head home. I need to eat something warm and try to get some rest, because I'm being a sulky little bitch right now.

Not really looking forward to seeing mom, though. She's not one to let things go easily.

Sure enough, as soon as I swing open the front door…

"Get your butt inside now, Mister!"

I sigh, taking off my outside gear, then shuffle to the living room, where Mom's paused in her action of dusting off the bookshelf. She has both hands on her hips, and a really displeased look plastered on her face.

"Young man, I do not know what you were thinking when you…"

…please, just stop yelling at me…

"…thought I taught you better than to just…"

…I'm 16, shouldn't I be past the point of being yelled at for things like this?

"…no idea how worried I was that…"

…why don't you ever go yell at Tracy?

"…absolutely no reason for this kind of behaviour…"

…why do I always get the shit end of the stick?

"…even listening to me, Ness?"

"…I'm sorry." I mumble, looking down at the floor.

I hear mom let out a long breath through her nose. Then I hear her approach me. A warm hand cradles the back of my head and she kisses me on the forehead.

"Breakfast is still on the table if you want some." She says, her voice no longer loud or scolding. "Afterwards, you march straight to your room and try to get some sleep, okay?"

I nod autonomously, then trudge over to the table, where a steaming plate of sausages, a few slices of bread, and a glass of milk are patiently waiting for me.

I hate it.

I hate how much I love her.

-01210-

This is what happens during sunrise.

The stars disappear slowly, the faint ones go first, then the brightest ones are snuffed out as the sky fades from black to dark blue. The mountainous horizon lights up gradually, silhouetting the rocky formations against a brightening backdrop. Then the sky turns from blue to a yellowish colour as the sun approaches Onett's skyline.

Then the street lights shut off, and you can begin to hear activity outside, a few cars revving through the streets, a few people chatting as they start off for the day. The birds wake up and start annoying the dogs, who bark after them.

Then the sun finally comes into view, and at this point you close your blinds and lie back down on your bed, because A: your bedroom window is pointed directly east, so the sun's rays will attack you first, and B: you realize you've woken up so early because of another fucking nightmare that you actually watched the sun rise while every other sane person your age is still snoring away.

Two in a row. Haven't had that in a while either.

Now what? It's like 6:30. Going down to prepare breakfast will probably wake up the rest of the family. Maybe I should dig out those old X-Rated's again… no, it's too early to look at sleazy naked ladies.

I pull the covers over myself as snugly as I can manage, trying to lure sleep back into me. To no avail, of course. Sometimes if I'm lucky, the Sandman takes pity on me and lets me get the rest I need, but clearly not today.

After another half hour of rolling around on my mattress, I slide off the bed with a defeated sigh.

With nothing better to do, I reach under my bed and pull out the heavy photo album again, sifting through the photos. I realize how irrational it is to hope there will be baby pictures of me in here this time, despite there being none the last 10 times I checked in the past few days. There's always this hope in my head.

I don't understand why I'm not just straight up asking mom.

Maybe it's because that I sense secrecy behind this.

Why would mom lock down everything in her room when she's away? I guess it's easy to say that she values privacy, but still…

Most importantly, why does dad wear a black wig?

I doubt it's a fashion choice, but I can believe it has something to do with _my_ natural hair colour.

It's almost like my parents are trying to dissuade any suspicion…

Is that why I'm not asking mom about this? Because on the inside I feel I can't trust that my parents will be honest with me? That I suspect the people who take care of me and will try to stow the truth from me?

I thought my parents love me like I love them…

I clench my teeth and threw the album to the ground, the book's pages flapping erratically as it lands with a thud on the carpet.

Okay… okay, calm down Ness. You're just being overly negative and pissy because of lack of sleep. Don't get worked up over something you're not even sure about… It's probably nothing, and you're just making something out of it because of your overactive brain… It's just some baby pictures and a wig, no need to get excited…

I decide to go for an early morning walk.

But first, I pick up a marker and check off December 30th, 2013 from the calendar.

Carefully opening and closing the front door, I step out and inhale some fresh, cool air, trying to clear my mind. I begin heading over to the town centre for some breakfast at the café.

Even though it's barely past 7:00, the tables are packed by early commuters scrambling to get something in their stomachs before the work day. It's even busier than usual because the café's having some kind of New Year's deal on breakfast or something like that.

My hands full with a hot chocolate and a bagel, I realize that I'm probably not gonna find a table all to myself. And I don't exactly wanna walk too far with hot food and drink. Squeezing through the chatting crowds, I find a rather big table with only one man sitting on one side.

Good enough for me. Hope the gentleman doesn't mind sharing.

By the way, I should note that this gentleman is wearing a cowboy hat. No, I'm not kidding. A cowboy hat, straight out of the tumbleweed infested Wild West. His clothes don't look much more modern either.

"'Scuse me, sir?" I say.

He turns his head to me, but the bill of his hat is hiding his eyes, so I have no idea if he's actually looking at me or not.

"Mind if I sit here? The place is packed."

He doesn't answer, but he pulls his cup, which was sitting at the centre of the table, closer to himself. Leaving enough space for me.

…I'll take that as a go ahead then.

Breakfast is a silent affair, as I get the feeling this man's not much of a talker. Occasionally he'd adjust his cowboy hat with a hand, or take a sip from his cup, but otherwise he doesn't seem to even notice me being here. I observe a few things about him, like the rather unclean and roughly shaven face, and overall off-putting demeanor. He looks… depressed. Wonder if he's homeless or something.

I finish stuffing down my food, and he's still drinking from his cup, which isn't even that big, by the way. Man, he's a slow drinker… or he just likes lounging around here. Whatever.

"Thanks for letting me sit here." I say as I stand up to leave.

He doesn't reply, merely adjusting his hat again.

-01210-

My eyes shoot open with a gasp.

Then my senses start coming to life. My eyes tell me I'm in my dark bedroom, my hearing tells me it's still in the dead of night, my touch tells me I'm lying tangled in my blanked on my bed.

…damn it.

I drape an arm over my eyes, panting heavily, trying to suppress the urge to punch a hole in the wall. Again. Nightmare again. For the third fucking night in a row.

Why does this happen to me!?

Well, look on the bright side. After 4 more hours I get to see another beautiful fucking sunrise again!

_9:40 AM  
_

It's a nice coincidence that my marker runs outta juice on the last space of my 2013 calendar. December 31st is now accompanied by an extra bold checkmark and the words 'LAST DAY OF THE YEAR!'. I stare at the now filled calendar with a strange sense of satisfaction, the toss the empty marker in the trash. Then I take down the 2013 calendar, and put up the brand new, surface-still-gleaming 2014 one, the 31 empty squares of January showing proudly.

_10:34 AM_

I pull my cellphone out of my jean pockets and fall back onto my bed, scrolling through the contact list. Man, it really hurts to stare at a small cellphone screen when your eyes are as dry and sleep deprived as mine.

But I have to. I have to come up with a time and place to meet for tonight's meet up. New Year's only comes… wait for it… once a year. So it's really important to get things organized with everybody so we don't botch the meet up and leave people behind. All should have the privilege to watch Fuel set off his homemade fireworks.

And when I say privilege, I mean thrilling experience of near death by third-degree burns.

Oh well, Onett always lets Fuel get away with it because the mayor's too cheap to spare money on proper fireworks. Our mayor has the competence of a bird afraid of heights.

Anyways, I'm texting everybody I know who's coming to make sure they don't screw up. I live closest to Meteor Hill, so they're gonna be conglomerating here, in front of my house. It won't be as bad as you think, I'm keeping the group small and controllable, because god knows if I invite too many assholes I'll probably find graffiti on my house by 2014.

I'm also very relieved to know the Minch family's spending New Year's in Fourside, because staying in a small town to celebrate such an event is beneath them or something dumb like that. Though Pokey still desperately tried to get me to come with him. Well, it's better than having him desperately trying to join us tonight.

I abruptly pause mid button press.

Should I…? I know I'll be (perhaps literally) inviting trouble by doing this…

Oh whatever. Fuel just needs to stop being such a baby.

I dial in the number, and hope that I'll get an answer.

"_Hello?"_

Good, he actually picks up on occasion. "Hey, Lucas?"

"…_Ness?"_

"Surprised I'm calling?"

"_Yes."_

I chuckle. He's as candid as ever. "So… you got plans for the night?"

_11:02 AM_

I refuse to believe he actually did have plans for the night, and therefore cannot participate in our gathering. That was 100 percent, Lucas grade bullshit. But whatevs, if he doesn't wanna come, I'm not gonna force him to.

But let's face it. It's utterly overt that the real reason he's not coming is because of Fuel. I guess Lucas would rather avoid Fuel than pick a fight with him. He's probably also considering how their spat would affect the mood for the rest of us, because that's just what he does, the stupid overly considerate idiot. He really should've realized that if I was inviting him fully conscious of the fact that Fuel's coming, it means we'd be prepared to handle things.

But I digress. One less potential stressor for the night, at least.

Otherwise… I think everything's good. Everybody's been informed, therefore I can no longer be held responsible for any further problems.

Now for a nap. I'm tired as fuck.

_4:51 PM  
_

I stand with my hands in my pockets, eyes tracking a familiar car pulling up and parking beside my lawn, and two equally familiar people stepping out. As to be expected, the first arrivals are Ninten and Paula. Though I didn't expect them to arrive together. In Ninten's Corvette. Which by the way I'm still not allowed in.

"Hey babe." Paula greets along with a quick kiss.

I eagerly return the sentiment. "Heya. I didn't know you two were coming together. If you told me I'd have driven you here myself."

"If we're just talking about the quality of the ride," Ninten says, walking over and clasping hands with me, "I think she'd prefer my car over yours."

"So does that mean you're giving me your car?" I say hopefully.

"I'll consider it in my will."

"Oh… then hurry up and die already."

He snaps an arm tightly around my neck, and we wrestle around for a while, laughing like idiots. We end up with an arm draped lazily around each other's shoulders, heads leaning against the other, grinning identically. Paula shakes her head with a smile, muttering something like 'boys'.

"Well, I hope I can at least make it past 2013." Ninten says lightly. "Though I'm doubting my chances, considering we're gonna be right beside Fuel when he pushes the detonator for his fireworks."

"Speaking of which…" Paula says, looking out over the road. "I think he's here."

I lift my arm off Ninten and head over to the large pick up rumbling to a squeaky stop behind Ninten's car. If the license plate reading 'INFERN 0' isn't enough of a hint that it's Fuel's ride, then maybe the massive crates of colourful yet lethal looking missiles loaded on the back would convince you.

The side doors click open, and the quiet of the neighbourhood is immediately cut with the blasting of loud country music. And of all people, Kung Fu Poo steps out of shotgun, looking rather uncomfortable being assaulted by the blaring acoustic guitar. Followed by Fuel from driver's side, wearing black sunglasses and a big grin.

"'Sup ladies and bitches?" Fuel calls out. "The VIP has arrived."

"Lucky us." I grin. "Nice to see you as well, Poo."

He straightens his back, and bows. "You as well, Ness."

"Yo, Poo, don't be bowing to them, they don't deserve it!"

"Yeah, and you are so much more deserving, right?" Ninten chides Fuel. "Hey, Poo, make sure that you never bow to Fuel. We don't need anything more to inflate his ego."

"In Dalaamian culture, bowing is a show of mutual respect among individuals." Mr. Kung Fu Poo lectures. "Purposefully not bowing to another is considered quite rude, as the assumption becomes that the other is below your attention and status."

"Oh. Well in that case, make extra care to never ever bow to Fuel then." I remark, earning a middle finger from Fuel.

Although Poo seems a bit lost. "But… I very much consider Master Fuel to be… ah… This must be another form of the crude humour you possess in this country."

"Or maybe Ness just tells really shitty jokes." Fuel ineloquently pipes up. "Anyways, Mr. Poo here has been helping me put the finishing touches on the fireworks, and let me tell ya, this man _knows _fireworks. We've got a helluva display for you!"

Paula flips an eyebrow. "Is that what you have been up to for the last few weeks?"

"Yes ma'am! It's nice having a Dalaamian on your side, these guys are good at, like, everything."

"Fireworks are an integral part of our culture celebrating the death of one year and the birth of the next. My family especially pride ourselves on exceptional displays."

A phone starts ringing, and we all instinctively put our hands to our pockets. Paula's the one that ends up fishing out the culprit. She takes one look, then rolls her eyes.

"It's daddy. Pardon me, boys." She walks off. I snicker, knowing that his dad's probably freaking out right now over the fact that his little girls gonna be staying up past midnight.

Meanwhile, a third car is silently parking itself behind Fuel's truck. Compared to Ninten's powerful Classic sports car, and Fuel's monstrous four by four heavy-lifter, this silver hybrid electricis like a meek little toy. I smile a bit. It's like the perfect car for its owner.

The doors open and one familiar and one unfamiliar dude step out.

Fuel lets out a whoop. "Jeff! Howya doin' you walking encyclopedia?" He slaps Jeff hard on the back, making the guy almost topple over.

"Ouff! Erm, q-quite well, Fuel." He replies, pushing his glasses back up his face.

"Oh dear, Jeff, are you quite alright?" The unfamiliar face speaks, with a rather… posh accent.

"I'm well, Tony. Thank you."

"Good, because frankly I do not particularly enjoy seeing you on the receiving end of such bloody brutish behaviour."

The guy called Tony looks disapprovingly at Fuel, who seems to be rather taken aback at being called _brutish. _

Ninten and I walk over, the former extending a hand with a pleasant smile. "Jeffrey. Looking good."

Jeff hastily accepts the hand with a hasty laugh. "You too Ninten. And you, Ness."

I pat a hand on his shoulder. Despite Jeff's ability to shatter the nerd scale if he really wants to, he's not totally socially inept. So we've invited him to rather big gatherings like this in the past, just to get him a taste of the world outside his basement laboratory. The guy can be cool when he's not trying to create particle accelerators or whatever the fuck.

"These two seem pleasant enough. It gives me hope that perhaps this town you live in is not completely overrun by uncivilized buggers, Jeff."

Ninten and I shoot our glares over to Jeff's weirdo company. I mean, the guy's wearing short _short _shorts, and a fucking bowler hat. What else needs to be said?

Jeff laughs nervously. "Please excuse Tony. He's not from these parts."

"Certainly not." Not-From-These-Parts says pompously. "I am a distinguished student of the Winters Boarding Academy. You may call me Tony. And whom do I have the pleasures of addressing?"

We don't answer, just keep our glares on him. Tony… the name rings a bell… oh yeah, he's the guy that Jeff said he's been hanging out with, his new geek buddy. The prick that Jeff likes so much that he can no longer help me with school work…

He looks bemused. "Do you not understand what I am asking of you? What, are, your, names?"

"Why don't we come take a look at the fireworks we shall be setting off tonight?" Jeff says, quickly stepping in front of him and leading him to Fuel's truck.

"Ah, I suppose. Those must be it, I must say, quite crude looking things…" As Tony rambles on, Jeff looks back at us with an apologetic and rather afraid expression. Then turns and whispers frantically to his new friend.

We exchange looks of amusement with Fuel, before he runs off to make sure his creations don't get nerdy fingerprints all over them. Poo follows him, every bit as weirded out by that exchange as we were.

_5:44 PM_

Michael, Angie, Nichol, Stuart, Colin, Butch… I'm checking off my mental list as they arrive. The front yard's getting crowded.

"Ninten." Paula's voice suddenly sounds from behind us. She looks kind of flustered as she thrusts her phone at Ninten. "Daddy wants to talk to you, he won't let me stay for the party unless you talk to him."

"What?" We both exclaim. Ninten grabs the phone and walks off. We hear him begin a carefully treaded conversation with Paula's dad.

"Why does the geezer wanna talk to him?" I ask. After all, if anybody, shouldn't he be chewing _me_ out? 'Cause he hates me? Since I'm the boyfriend and all that?

"Ninten's been helping us out for our Day Care recently." Paula says, staring at Ninten as he taps a foot on the ground, holding the phone to his ear, no doubt listening to Mr. Polestar rant on and on. "That's why we came together today. He's actually pretty patient with kids, and the kids really seem to like him too. And daddy really, _really _likes him."

I frown. "How come?"

She sighs. "Because he's calm, collected, mature, very kind, sweet, soft spoken, all that stuff he somehow doesn't see in you. In fact, daddy's already started none-so-discreetly talking about how he'd make a more ideal partner for me than you."

"Oh come on! That's a load of bull-."

"I know, sweetie, I know." She puts both her hands on my arm. "But Ninten's just… better at showing certain qualities than you most of the time. Even you have to admit it, he's a lot better with adults that you."

Yeah, yeah. I guess he is a lot better at handling the stupidity that comes out of adults' mouths than me.

"He could've pretended to be me, y'know." I mumble. "We look so similar. It might've gotten your dad off my back."

Paula laughs. "Don't worry Nessie, eventually dad's gonna get over his little fit and just accept us."

"Paula?" We look over to see Ninten beckoning Paula to go over, and gesturing frantically at the phone, which we can hear a voice shouting through it even from all the way over here. Paula rolls her eyes, heads over to calm her dad down.

Watching the two of them take turns talking into the cellphone trying to get Polestar Senior to shut the fuck up, I start to feel a bit anxious. Always good to know that your girlfriend's father hates you and already has a replacement in mind.

I shake the notion from my mind. I need to start being more positive. It's the last day of the year, I need to be going into 2014 with an upbeat attitude, not an emo one.

_8:10 PM_

Meteor Hill gives a panoramic view of our entire town. Onett's located in a small plateau, surrounded on all sides by mountains. They're not particularly tall mountains, but still goddamn mountains. We made it up the hill just in time to see the sun disappear behind the outlying mountain range.

It's pretty nice up here.

It also ensures that everybody in Onett has full view of Fuel's WMDs. Which he's eagerly setting up with the help of Poo right now.

I look around the place. People are chatting, dicking around, starting card games, all that good stuff. Still don't see any craters on the ground though, so no idea whether or not a meteorite actually landed here or if someone just pulled the name out of their ass.

But right now, I'm looking for a person in particular…

I spot him detached from the main group, setting up a freakin' telescope. God, does Jeff have to science up every place he goes?

He has company though. That Tony dude's chatting it up beside him, and another kid with silver white hair cut in a bowl, wearing similar opaque glasses as Jeff. That's Lloyd, the other resident academic powerhouse of Onett High. He doesn't really talk much, and I'm pretty sure I saw him once hiding in a garbage can. I don't understand why Ninten's so fond of the guy.

I approach them with hesitancy. I'm out of my element.

"…all the bloody time, he's just faffing about while I do all the calculations. If Maxwell was there he would've most certainly thrown a fit… oh." Tony stops mid blab when he sees me. "Jeff, I do believe you have a visitor."

Jeff and Lloyd turn their attentions from the NASA grade telescope to me, thick glasses gleaming.

Yep, definitely out of my element.

"Erm… If you don't mind, can I pull Jeff away for a moment?" I ask.

"What on earth for?" Tony pipes up indignantly. I narrow my eyes at him. This dude needs to find a dollar and make a trip to the nearest Chill Pill dispenser right now.

"I-It's fine. Don't worry." Jeff stands up, waving the Winters prick down. "Lloyd can help you finish setting up the observation station."

Tony eyes me suspiciously, and I'm really getting an urge to punch him in the face all of a sudden.

"Very well then. Do make sure you come back soon."

I take my cue and lead Jeff away, not just from them, but from everybody. I want some privacy for this conversation. I stop a ways down Meteor Hill, near an abandoned old house.

"I'm quite sorry about Tony, Ness." Jeff says, rubbing the back of his head. "He can get rather possessive of me and… clingy at times."

"It's fine, I can understand… sort of." I shrug.

"So… what is it that you need?"

"Don't sound so nervous, I'm not gonna ask you to start doing homework for me again." I tease with a small grin.

Jeff laughs at that, though there's no mistaking the relief in that shaky laugh. Suddenly I feel a strong sense of pity for Mr. Andonuts here… who knows how many nights he's stayed up doing assignments that are not his just to preserve the thin sense of friendship with the 'cooler' kids at school.

"Alright, if that is not the case, what can I help you with?" Jeff says.

"Well…" I pause, thinking carefully how I'm gonna ask this. "Okay, let's say a man and a woman both have naturally black hair. Would it be possible for them to have a… say… red-headed child?"

Jeff rears his head back a bit, clearly confused why I'm asking him such a strange question. "Well, it's certainly not out of the realm of possibility. The most likely cause for this would be recessive genetics that have carried through the chromosomes of a parent."

I stare blankly at him.

"In less science-y terms," Jeff elaborates patiently, "a genetic trait that has skipped generations. In your example, the red headed child may have a grandparent or great-grandparent that also had red hair."

"Ah. I see… so the hair colour doesn't really determine if a kid's really the parent's kid or not, right?"

His raises his eyebrows. "…no, not necessarily. Why is this important to you?"

"Don't worry about it. Then in your opinion, what's the best way to prove whether or not a kid's the genetic offspring of their parents?" I insist.

"Erm… w-well, usually people look for physical similarities, b-but that can be unreliable at times…" Jeff says, feeling pressured. "So I say something like DNA testing or even blood sampling…"

"And where can I get info like that?"

"T-the hospital has the information, b-but for confidentiality reasons y-you must be over the age of 18 or have express permission to be given DNA or blood records…"

"…I see…" I say, deflating myself a bit.

"…can I a-ask why you're so adamant about knowing this?" Jeff says quietly.

"No reason…" I whisper, looking off the side of the hill, where I can see my house laying sleepily along with many cars parked by it. "Now let's get back, before your boyfriend Tony calls the National Guard on me."

_10:27 PM_

Somebody brought a twelve-pack. Actually, multiple twelve-packs. I can see them being handed around to anybody who would take a can. I'm hoping things don't get too shit-faced, even though there aren't that many people here, things can still get outta control fast. We only need a couple inebriated assholes to fuck up the night.

Speaking of which… Kung Fu Poo is on his sixth beer.

"Don't worry about him." Fuel says from beside me, also looking at Poo. "He said that in his country, ceremonial alcohol isn't uncommon, even for people his age. And the stuff they drink is way hardcore. This shit's basically flavoured water to him."

No kidding huh... the Dalaamian's cheeks aren't even red.

"Hey guys!" A rather nasally tone sounds, and we see a dude named Butch come over, clutching six or seven cans of beer in his chubby arms. "Who wants one?"

Fuel immediately accepts, and Butch tosses him one. Fuel snaps the top open with his teeth and takes a big gulp, before smiling his wide goofy smile at us. He's definitely having a good time.

"I'll take one too." I decide, catching a can Butch tosses over at me. I don't really know why I'm taking one, I never really liked the taste of shitty beer. I guess I'm hoping a beer or two would distract me from all the stupid thoughts buzzing around in my head right now.

"Ness!" I hear Paula's scolding voice as her and Ninten stop beside me. "You know that I don't like seeing you drink that stuff!"

"I know, but I… I dunno, I've got a lot on my mind right now, so just let me have this one." I smile innocently, breaking the top of the can open with a pop and a fizz. "C'mon babe, last one of the year?"

She presses her lips in a thin line and slowly shakes her head, but doesn't stop me. Then she walks off to talk to the other girls.

"What could possibly be plaguing your intricate mind right now, Ness?" Ninten asks amusedly.

"Bite me. I'm just… thinking 'bout stuff, 'kay?" I mumble vaguely, hoping they don't press on.

"You want one, Ninten?" Butch asks, holding out a can.

"No, I'm fine." Ninten shakes his head, hands stiffly in pockets. Butch shrugs, and wanders off.

"Why didn't you take one, 'Ten?" Fuel asks, finishing his can with one last gulp and tossing it in a nearby garbage bin. "You can take a beer just fine, I've seen you."

"Don't really feel like it."

I take a sip. Ugh, it's warm. Would've been nicer of it was still cold, but I don't think anyone would've been willing to carry an ice cooler up Meteor Hill. Nobody else seems to be complaining though, they're all screwing around and having a nice last night of 2013. Paula has found Angie and they're giggling about something. Jeff's pals have their geekoscope up and running and are taking turns peering through it at the clear sky. A boom box somewhere is playing a nice beat, to which Poo is break dancing with a crowd cheering him on eagerly.

"Y'know, not to be a downer or anything…" Fuel says, quietly enough so that only we can hear. "But this is the first big gig in a long time that we're celebrating without Ana…"

…he's right. I can't help but search Ninten's face for a reaction. But he merely stares impassively at the others having a good time.

"…you know what, a beer doesn't actually sound too bad." He says, and he yells at Butch to throw him a can.

_11:41 PM_

"I wonder how they got their hands on beer." Ninten wonders conversationally.

"Oh, Butch told me there's a place in the middle of town where they sell beer cheap, and to anybody, they don't care if you're of age or not." Fuel says. "I think it's run by some Scarabian immigrant called Fassad or something."

"Wow." Ninten whistles. "Wonder if many people know about the pl… Ness are you okay?" He suddenly asks, voice urgent.

"Hmm?" I focus on him. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Dude, you're crushing your can so hard that you're _bleeding!_" Ninten shouts.

I look down at my hand. Indeed the tin's cutting slightly into my skin. Damn, didn't even fucking notice.

_11:49 PM_

"I can't believe you brought bandages to a New Year's Party." I mutter as Paula wraps the white cloth around my palm.

"I didn't, I got these from Jeff." Paula says, looking at me with a thoroughly unimpressed face. "Don't do stupid stuff like that again, okay?"

I place a hand over my heart and close my eyes. "I solemnly swear this shall be my last act of stupidity of the year."

That earns me a playful smack to the back of my head from Paula. "If only I can get you to make that promise ten minutes from now." She says with a knowing smile.

"Wow, ten minutes to midnight already?" I say, looking back at the crowd, and indeed there seems to be a bit of anxious buzzing forming. Most of them are gathered around Fuel and Poo, who're doing some final checkups on their massive launch site of what must be a hundred individual fireworks. All the missile like projectiles are placed in black tubes, pointing straight for the sky.

"Yeah. One last kiss for the year before we go corral the crowd?" Paula requests, as she finishes binding the last strip of cloth over my hand.

I pull her against me. Who am I to deny such a request.

_11:58 PM_

I take a look at my watch. Exactly two minutes to midnight.

I look back up. Everybody have gathered around me in a circle, waiting silently for me to deliver the traditional last word before the countdown, known as the 'Final Uttering of Culminated Knowledge'. Y'know… 'FUCK'.

The teenage mind is a wondrous thing.

Anyways, the annual December 31st 'FUCK' speech is where I, Ness, deliver some final touching words of reflection to close off the year and start the new one. Why am I always the one chosen to deliver the sacred 'FUCK' speech? Because I'm Ness. That's all the explanation you'll ever need.

I clear my throat.

"This year, a lot of things have changes, and a lot of things have stayed the same. For example, Butch is still a lazy money-obsessed ball of lard, Colin's hair is still longer than most girls', and I'm still completely and utterly shit at baseball."

"No kidding." Fuel cuts in with a sly grin.

"…and Fuel's still trying to figure out how to ask Angie out without coming off as a retard."

That grin vanishes so fast as laughs surround him. I can see Angie blushing, the poor girl had no idea.

"But sometimes, things staying the same is a good thing. I don't know about you guys, but it gives me a sense of safety, knowing what to expect every day I step out the door. Don't get me wrong, change is good too, otherwise I think I'd die of boredom. But it's just that sometimes…" I look over at Ninten. "When a constant in your life just changes, it can be hard to adjust."

Sober silence.

"…and I promise, that's the last gay platitude you'll ever hear me say."

The silence breaks into light laughter.

"Seriously though, if there's anything I wanna say, it's that I don't want things to change right now. I wanna just enjoy life as an average teenage asshole whose every decision is made with his dick. I wanna enjoy my time with all of you slightly less awesome than me people, and not have to worry about maturing and all that crap.

"And most of all, I wanna be right here in Onett. This town is the fucking best in the world, I don't care what anybody else says. Twoson has kidnappings every two hours, Threed has half of its real estate dedicated to a graveyard, and I don't think anybody in Fourside even knows what fresh air feels like or what stars look like. Fuck all of them, Onett for life!"

"AMEN!" Somebody shouts, and that leads off a round of cheering.

I raise a fist in the air. "Here's to 2014, where hopefully things would be less shitty, but let's face it, it'll only get worse as we get older. So here's to growing up in Onett, and hoping all you wonderful pricks will be here with me through this game called life!"

The cheering swells, and at this moment, I let myself believe that being alive is a wonderful thing.

"Fuel?" I call out.

"Yeeeess?"

"Send us out."

Fuel cracks his knuckles. "With pleasure." He holds out a small box with some buttons, which has wires connected to it leading to every fireworks launch tube. "Okay! Has everybody brought their earmuffs, safety goggles, fire extinguishers, and emergency burn treatments? No? Too bad!"

I check my phone, which has its time synched up to the international clock. I've been checking it since this morning, to make sure it still works. Right now it reads: _11:59:46 _

"Countdown starts… now! 10...!"

All of us start shouting down the numbers, even Jeff, Lloyd and Tony, the latter with reluctance.

We hit one, and Fuel pushes a button.

The resulting spectacular display could not be missed by anybody in Onett.

-01210-

"_Wait up!" I call, running to try to catch up to mom and Tracy._

_They don't hear me, they just keep walking and talking, laughing at each others jokes. I can't hear anything they're saying._

"_Mom! Trace! Wait for me!" I yell, running faster._

_But they're not getting any closer…!_

_Their words become quieter and quieter as the distance between us grew._

_I… c'mon catch up… why can't I catch up?!_

"_Mom! Wait for me!" I yell desperately at their figures. Why can't they fucking hear me? I'm right here!_

_Their figures start disappearing…_

_No… no wait! WAIT!_

_Suddenly everything gets dark._

_Everything gets cold._

"_H-hello?" I call out. Nothing, not even an echo._

_It's so cold here…_

"_Anybody there? Mom? Tracy?"_

_They don't answer._

_I'm panicking. I'm panicking! Why isn't anybody answering me? Where the hell am I?_

_All of a sudden, everything starts hurting. My whole body feels like there's needles running through them! It hurts!_

_IT HURTS!_

_I yell out desperately, but the darkness doesn't fade. The cold doesn't fade._

_The pain intensifies…_

"_MOM!" I cry out. "MOM!"_

_It hurts so much…! I'm all alone and it hurts so much!_

_Stop this…_

_STOP THIS!_

My eyes shoot open, and I spring up to a sitting position.

And I start screaming.

Mom… where's mom? Why's it so dark in my room? Everything's too dark, everything's too quiet…

I keep screaming. Where's mom!?

Then my door slams open. "Ness!?"

I jump out of my bed, run up to mom and hug her tightly, burying my face into her nightgown. I start crying loudly.

"Ness! Oh dear, Ness it's okay, shhh, shh, it's okay baby, mommy's here…" She whispers against my forehead, rubbing my back gently.

"_I don't understand it!_" I sob, clutching her silky nightgown, tears staining her front. "_Why me? Why do I always have these stupid nightmares!?"_

"Oh sweetie, it's okay, it's okay…" She croons, hands patting me on my back. "Let it out, mommy's here…"

So I do. I cry and cry as she holds me, letting the frustration of a fourth straight night of sleeplessness out. I haven't cried like this in a long, long time.

After I calmed down enough, she leads me to the bathroom to get my face cleaned up. At this point, Tracy's woken up and is following us with a concerned look on her face. Mom places me in front of the vanity, and I grab my towel and wipe the tears off my face. My eyes are bloodshot and swollen.

Then she leads me to her room.

"No… it's… it's fine. I'll be okay." I say quietly, breaking out of her hold and heading back to my room. "Just… just promise that you'll be here…"

She promises, and reluctantly lets me head back to my room alone. On the way Tracy grabs me and pulls me into a quick hug. One that I feel like I needed way too much.

I walk back into my room, but leave the door open a crack. I collapse back on my bed, eyes still stinging a little.

I turn to look at my new 2014 calendar. Not a single mark on it yet.

I don't think I'll be able to keep this up for another year…


End file.
